


Triumviri

by Diomedes



Category: Avengers (Comics), Hickmanvengers - Fandom, Marvel 616, Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates, New Avengers (Comics), the Illuminati (Marvel) - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Crossover, Gen, I love the Illuminati, Marvel 616/Marvel 1610 crossover, Mind Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not A Fix-It, Tony Stark Has Issues, they're such a terrible idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diomedes/pseuds/Diomedes
Summary: When Anthony Stark (currently dying) and Gregory Stark (formerly dead) from the Ultimates Universe wake up in SHIELD custody in Universe-616, they don't know they've inadvertently set their universes on a literal collision course as the Incursion Crisis accelerates. Tony Stark (currently screwed) is the man the Illuminati send to deal with the interlopers.This is not the start of a beautiful friendship. This is the story of three Starks working at cross-purposes and lying like they breathe as they race to uncover each other’s secrets and quite possibly kill each other’s world.A Hickmanvengers/Ultimate Universe crossover------------------------------
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Tony Stark (Ultimates), Tony Stark & Tony Stark (Ultimates) & Gregory Stark, Tony Stark & the Illuminati, brief Tony Stark/Tony Stark (Ultimates), past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship
Comments: 44
Kudos: 34





	1. Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Director's Dilemma._  
>  Music: [Two Against One by Danger Mouse, Daniele Luppi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lF_C7BvAf_A)  
> No warnings apply.

_**Triumviri:** Latin. plural._ two or more members of a ruling power of three

_Notoriously unstable things triumvirates, like three-legged stools with uneven legs. - Greta Donovan_

When Director Hill had phoned for a consultation that afternoon Dr. Leonard Samson had politely declined having momentarily forgotten that Maria Hill was not the type of woman by inclination or profession to whom one says _no_. Subsequently her black-ops extraction team dropped him off on the Helicarrier bridge two hours later. 

“You’re late, Leonard.” Maria spared him an irritated glance. “Follow me.” She turned and started walking down one of the dozen seemingly identical hallways that littered the carrier. 

He glanced around as they retreated into the bowels of the ship. “What does SHIELD need a psychologist for? Is it Banner?” 

Maria shot him a look, one of the long-suffering ones she frequently sported. “I wish,” she muttered as she stopped in front of two reinforced holding cells and pointed through the one-way glass. 

_This - this might be a problem,_ Leonard would concede.

The man in the righthand cell was dressed in all-black businesswear the same shade as his hair. He was sprawled on his back on the lone cot as if he were lounging on the beach and not in one of the most secure rooms on the planet, his right foot tapping distractedly on the concrete wall in abstract rhythm. The man in the lefthand cell was blond and dressed in a pristine white three-piece suit. He was standing stock still in the middle of the room, surveying his accommodations with evident disgust. His eyes flitted momentarily toward the false glass and Leonard could have sworn he saw them. 

Apart from the colour reversal they looked identical but that wasn’t the most striking thing - no, the most striking thing was that they respectively looked like an exact replica and a polar negative of Tony Stark; founding Avenger, ex-Director of SHIELD, and former patient of Dr. Leonard Samson. 

Leonard turned to Maria and found she was already shaking her head. “They’re not Skrulls, they’re not aliens, they’re not clones, and according to reliable sources Stark - _our_ Stark - is currently closing a business deal in Japan. I checked. I double-checked.”

Leonard turned back to the prisoners. “Then who are they?” 

Maria’s gaze never left the men in the cells, eyeing them like you would lions in a cage. “We don’t know yet. But you’re going to help us find out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the Incursion crisis (Hickman Avengers) and post- _Avengers vs New Ultimates_.
> 
> This was my attempt to write a story with plot. Romantic pairings are not the focal point and are only listed so as to not surprise anyone. Specific warnings will be listed in the endnotes of each chapter. The is just the prelude, chapters will be longer.
> 
> Up Next: _Tony and the Dead City._ [Stereo - The Watchmen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hlwcFGqVK0)


	2. Ignition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tony and the Dead City._  
>  Music: [Stereo - The Watchmen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hlwcFGqVK0)  
> Individual chapter warnings are in the endnotes.

_Necropolis_ literally meant City of the Dead and Tony couldn't think of a better place to gather a group of geniuses and kings to contemplate murder. No, that scale was too small. Not murder; massacres. Genocides. Extinctions.

 _Go big or go home,_ his mind whispered tauntingly.

But that wouldn't happen today. Today the implant in Tony's hand that signalled the countdown to the end of the world was silent. Today the Illuminati were gathering to let Bruce Banner in on their dirty little secret and hope they all survived the fallout. Banner was already plenty pissed over the fact the Illuminati had reformed and he didn't know the half of what they had done and what they were prepared to do.

 _Another test,_ Tony thought, glancing at the stone floor, _and we failed the first._

"Your lot never struck me as the type to be tardy," Bruce commented mildly from the confines of one of the large stone chairs. Tony's mouth twisted, he really hated being lobbed in with any group that contained Namor. It was little consolation that some of the others undoubtedly felt the same way about him.

"It's more difficult for everyone to get away these days," he replied truthfully. Excuses had to be made, alibis shored up - the _secret_ part of _secret doomsday_ club had to be maintained. By all accounts _Tony Stark_ was currently in Japan. He was one of the most recognizable men in the world and he had SHIELD fooled into thinking he was half a globe away. Therein lay the rub: if the Illuminati were composed of less competent men they'd have been caught by now. Tony both marvelled and resented the fact that they hadn't. The dread of discovery was horrible but after a year it was the monotony of it that chafed, sitting heavy in his gut day in and day out. He understood now why criminals slept in their cells once caught - the mental exhaustion of waiting for the other shoe to drop took a toll.

"Tony," said Banner pointedly and Tony glanced up. Bruce just nodded towards where the other man's hand was beating out a steady rhythm on the stone tabletop without permission. Tony had never done well with waiting.

"The others aren't usually this late," he said, withdrawing his hand to fiddle with his cufflinks instead.

"What could possibly be keeping them?" Bruce asked dryly. "The Hulk's just found out that the group of men who previously shot him into space have re-formed their elitist club and have been keeping the death of the multiverse a secret for over a year."

Tony shot him a warped smile. "I was thinking the Fantasticar probably just got stuck in traffic."

"I was thinking the rest of them may have decided to abandon you to your fate," Bruce said matter-of-factly.

Tony held his hands up. "Hey, I showed. You were the one who called this meeting."

"I shouldn't have had to," Bruce practically snarled. "You had no right to keep something like this to yourself."

"I didn't - "

"You did. Just because you had the others' help doesn't mean it's not on you." Bruce peered at Tony over round-rimmed glasses. "I want the truth without the lies this time. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes." Tony meant it. He always meant his promises in the beginning.

"I might hold you to that," Bruce said darkly.

"Duly noted." The heavy East doors opened, sparing Tony. "Speaking of the Life of the Party- Good afternoon, Your Highness."

Black Bolt, King of the Inhumans, remained as stoic and silent as ever as he took his seat. Stephen Strange arrived next via portal with Hank McCoy. Reed Richards hesitated only a moment before taking the chair next to Bruce though he still looked uneasy, belonging as he did to that particular intersection of the Venn diagram of people who had sent Banner on his impromptu space adventure and people who felt genuinely bad about it. Namor walked in like he owned the place while T'challa (who actually owned the place) arrived last.

There was no denying the Illuminati made for an impressive table: Atlantis, Attilan, Wakanda, the X-Men, the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, and the Sorcerer Supreme. They all eyed Bruce with varying degrees of caution: the Hulk had, at one time or another, broken all of them and no one had forgotten.

"Good evening, Dr. Banner," greeted T'challa and Bruce shot him a smile nearly as fake as Tony's had been earlier.

"I'm sure you're all just as thrilled to see me as I am to be here."

Namor sneered at the double meaning. "The pleasure is all yours, I assure you. Are we inviting whatever monsters we want to these meetings now?"

"No one here is a monster," said Hank automatically.

"Not yet," rejoined Namor, cutting the truth too close to the bone. No one's hands would be clean by the end. "So tell me," the Prince continued coolly, staring at Banner, "why have you _debased_ yourself by joining us?"

"He knows about the Incursions," said Tony and Namor's eyes swung towards his new target.

"And you told him the Illuminati were back and invited him here."

"I - Yes." Tony looked around the table, all that power and intelligence hadn't been enough. "We need all the help we can get."

"And he no doubt threatened to turn you into a bloody smear. So coward that you are, you told him everything."

Tony just gritted his teeth and stared right back. "I can threaten you with something similar if it would help move this meeting along."

"Gentlemen," Hank interrupted in his deep baritone, "regardless of the circumstances I believe Dr. Banner is owed an explanation and I believe it is in our best interest not to delay it further. Reed?"

Richards shuffled to the head of the table and everyone hushed as dread crept into the room. "Everything dies," Reed began, "the multiverse is not the exception."

Across from Tony, Namor leaned back in his chair - bored, no doubt at having to explain the problem again. Black Bolt sat opposite Reed, silent as always, while T'challa and Stephen were both fixated on Banner, searching for signs of distress.

Hank spoke up again before Reed could go into full lecture mode. "I'm sure Dr. Banner will double-check your figures later Reed, may I suggest you skip to the relevant bits before our Green friend appears."

Reed blinked, probably unsure as to what remained if the interesting bits of trans-dimensional mathematics were removed because Banner was one of the few men who could run the figures himself and grant them absolution for the conclusions they'd come to. Namor coughed indelicately.

"Oh for the love of-" Tony muttered before turning to face Bruce. "The multiverse is dying. You know this already but what Reed's skipping over is that we know how. Two-by-two alternate universes are overlapping - during an Incursion - and when they physically touch it's causing the annihilation of both universes. It's killing off the multiverse. Our universe is on the chopping block and we don't know how to stop it."

"We do know how to stop it," Namor broke in and Tony winced.

"We know how to postpone it," T'challa corrected. "The universes in question touch at a single incursion point - Earth. Within the allotted timeframe if one of the Earths is eliminated - " and wasn't that a nice euphemism, " - both universes survive."

 _But one Earth dies_ , echoed unsaid through the chamber.

Bruce hadn't twitched since the explanation began and his outward stoicism had succeeded in setting everyone else on edge. When he finally spoke again he sounded remarkably calm. "So, if - _when_ \- our universe is involved in an incursion, to save our world you have to kill theirs."

A number of the Illuminati faltered but only T'challa found the courage to answer. "Yes."

Bruce took off his glasses to clean them. "You're some of the smartest men I've ever met so my only question for you gentlemen is this," his voice turned low and scratchy, "how many alternate Earths - planets full of billions of people, _entire histories_ \- have you already destroyed?" It was uttered without a hint of a growl or a pallor of green but it still felt like Wrath incarnate.

"None," Reed replied quickly with his hands open in surrender. "We've been - we've been incredibly lucky." Tony laughed bitterly inside at that characterization of their situation. "Our Earth has undergone four incursions so far. One didn't involve us at all - a teleporter destroyed the alternate Earth before we knew there was a problem. We used and broke the Infinity Gauntlet repelling one. One alt-Earth was consumed by Galactus during the Incursion event, and the last Earth was a dead world-"

"I destroyed it," T'challa confessed with the steely eyed resolve befitting a King.

"We destroyed it," Hank corrected kindly. _We. Us_. _Our_ choice. _Our_ destruction. They still had their Earth, still had their universe. Even the alternate universe still spun on and all it had cost was one dead planet. They wouldn't all be dead. Some of them would be living when the Illuminati came to kill them.

"Unfortunately," Reed continued, "this does not prevent future incursions from happening. Surviving a single incursion event simply means our universe is free to overlap with a new alternate universe."

It was a gladiatorial death match they couldn't escape from made all the more worse in the knowledge that their adversaries had nor more choice in the matter than they had.

"You don't have a solution to the original multiverse collapse problem," said Bruce.

Tony stared at his hands. "No. We only have the means to delay."

"There are infinite alternate universes."

"And we cannot postpone the inevitable indefinitely," he replied softly. "The multiverse _will_ die and our universe is not the exception. We can't save it, we're just battling for one more day." He met Bruce's eyes, darker even than Reed's, from across the table. _Welcome to your life, Bruce. You wanted the truth? Here it is, in all its ugly humanity. We're trapped, there's no way out, and there is more than one way to become a monster._ The assertion should have been sharp and vicious but it only made Tony feel tired.

Bruce said nothing for a long, long time. Long enough that Stephen started fidgeting, flexing his fingers. "Alright," said Bruce finally and Tony released the breath he'd been holding. "Don't misunderstand, Stark, I'm not saying I agree with this but I don't think you're lying about it. This is horrible enough that I believe you."

"Thanks," replied Tony humourlessly.

Stephen voiced the question on everyone's mind. "So what are you planning to do Bruce, now that you know what we know?" _Now that you know what we're planning to do?_

Bruce got to his feet. "Now, you're going to show me the means you've devised for killing a planet. Bombs, I assume. I'm pretty good with bombs; the first one excepted." He smiled - not the closed-mouth, happy one - the one with _teeth_.

Everyone froze because they all tried so hard to forget what was hidden in the basement. What would happen once the Hulk saw a crypt full of world-ending bombs?

But earning Banner's trust required a show of it in turn. "Of course." T'challa nodded stiffly and began leading Bruce towards the crypt; towards the armoury. Most of the others followed until only Tony and Stephen remained.

"I couldn't help but notice he didn't give us an answer," said Stephen.

"We'll learn soon enough." Tony made no move to descend into the crypt. He'd spent enough of his life around bombs.

Stephen arched an eyebrow. "Hesitating?"

"Worried."

"T'challa and I have plans in place should the Hulk make an appearance."

"I'm not worried about the Hulk." Stephen raised the other eyebrow in disbelief. "I'm worried about Bruce. There's a chance he'll see the bombs and hear us out and just- walk out on us anyway. He doesn't need to smash us to destroy us." Their group ran on secrecy and Bruce could bring it all tumbling down with a whisper in the right ear. If the Hulk went on a rampage there was still a chance they could talk Banner down but if Bruce rationally and calmly said no then that was that. It was only a matter of time before he called the Avengers World, or SHIELD, or the UN and it would all be over unless -

"We can't do it again," Stephen said in an apparent _non sequiter_ but Tony knew immediately what it meant.

He grimaced. "It's not like erasing someone's memory is my first choice either, Stephen."

"You misunderstand, the Hulk and mind-magic don't mix. I cannot erase Bruce's memory if he disagrees with us. Not like - " Stephen fell silent, knowing better than to finish the phrase. _Not like we did to Steve Rogers._

Instantly Tony felt his body go cold and he stared at the hard slabs of stone floor where Steve had fallen after Stephen's spell. The guilt that assaulted him wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was knowing that on the scale of world-ending bombs and weaponizing the sun and using the Avengers as a smokescreen, erasing Captain America's memory actually ranked pretty low on any list of Tony's current sins. It just hurt more because it was Steve.

Steve who had joined the Illuminati's first meeting about the Incursions and who had railed against the necessity of what they had to do; as if having the means to destroy a world meant you were already guilty of not trying hard enough. As if hope and a flag could save the multiverse when a cabal of geniuses and kings with a vast array of education, influence, intelligence and experience could not. The Illuminati couldn't afford to let him just walk away and Steve had looked Tony in the eye from across this same stone table and had known it too. He had known who Tony would pick in the end and that it wasn't him.

"Bruce isn't like Steve," Tony finally settled on, voice hoarse. "He won't like it but he can run the numbers himself and come to the same conclusion we did. Who knows? Maybe he can solve it."

Stephen frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you well? I know you and the Captain are leading the Avengers these days. If you're having regrets-"

"I knew I'd regret it," Tony tore his gaze away, "I voted to do it to him anyway. Same as you." Because they were exactly the type of men who held a democratic vote about forcibly erasing someone's memories. "I don't regret the necessity of it. Yet. Ask me again once we start blowing up planets full of people."

Other people would have recoiled in disgust at the flippancy of that remark. Instead Stephen just solemnly put his hand on Tony's shoulder in comfort and guided him towards the twinkling bombs downstairs.

It was a sign of the times.

\----------------------

The view of the crypt was probably more shocking to the rest of them than it was to Tony: row upon row of ten-foot planet-killing explosive devices standing at attention, all arranged in absolute maze-like order. Tony was immune to perfect, promised destruction in a way most found off-putting. Then again, he used to be a weapons designer. Used to be and now was again. Relapsed.

No one else liked the view either. Hank McCoy was staring off at the far wall like he couldn't bear to look at the bombs for long. Bruce was standing amidst them but he was still Bruce and not green and rampaging which Tony took as a good sign. T'challa and Reed were answering Banner's infrequent questions. It was an unspoken rule that nobody talked loudly in the crypt. They all held too much respect for the death contained within which was why it was perfectly awkward when the silence was pierced by a loud, shrill beeping. Everyone's eyes immediately snapped to Tony. Too many of them had been Avengers to not instinctively recognize the sound. His Avengers Alert was going off and Tony's fingers were slow in silencing it.

It was a medium-priority message left on an official channel so Tony played it aloud, unprepared to have Steve's voice flood the cavern.

" _Tony, Director Hill said she couldn't get through to you. Listen - SHIELD picked up some interlopers a couple days ago and has them cooling in solitary. They're- They're_ ** _you_** _, and as far as anyone can tell they're not aliens. We're trying to get hold of Reed or Pym to see if they can tell us more but Maria could use your help. We need you, Shellhead_."

The message cut out and silence reigned. Hearing Cap's voice after what they had done to him felt like someone walking over your grave. Even T'challa bowed his head, struck with the knowledge that nothing stayed buried indefinitely. Everyone paid the piper eventually and their piper would come filled with righteous fury dressed in red, white and blue. All Stephen's magic, all Tony's lies, all their anti-matter bombs could do was buy them time.

The silence was broken by Banner. He doubled-over, emitting a high-pitched bark and everyone flinched, anticipating a big, green party crasher that never appeared. Instead Bruce was laughing, and mildly hysterically at that. His eyes were filled with tears when he caught Tony's eye. "Oh _God_. With everything I've seen today Tony, I'd completely forgotten about the amount of effort you must be putting into lying to Steve."

For the space of a heartbeat Tony let the words crash into him. Bruce didn't even know the half of what had happened with Cap. There were terrible things done for the survival of the planet, and there was screwing over a friend to that end. Bruce would not take kindly to the latter. He had no idea that the Illuminati - that _Tony_ \- had screwed with Steve's head and it didn't matter because Tony was _still lying anyway_. He was still using their Avengers team as a diversion for weapons production and secret meetings. The Illuminati needed someone to keep an eye on Rogers even if it meant facing their betrayal each day and Tony - well, Tony certainly had form there.

"Thanks." His voice sounded tinny to his own ears and Stephen shot him a concerned look.

Reed bit his lip. "I'm more worried about the two other Starks in SHIELD custody." He shifted from foot to foot in the awkward atmosphere. Tony took the opportunity to look away from Bruce, deliriously happy for once that Reed was socially oblivious enough to change the subject in complete innocence.

"Why?" asked Hank. "Two more Starks is unusual granted - though you'll excuse me for saying so Anthony - they seem a minor problem compared to the death of the universe."

Tony frowned as he followed Reed's line of thinking. "You think they're from alternate universes. You think their appearance might have something to do with the Incursions."

Reed made a helpless gesture. "Or it might not. We don't have enough data. Our system hasn't detected any imminent incursion events."

Tony looked down at his left palm to check the Illuminati implant injected there anyway. It remained silent, not the inflamed red that signalled the eight-hour countdown to the end of the universe.

"We had rogue Avengers from an alternate dimension last week, they didn't know anything about this. Why should we be any more suspicious of these two?" asked Bruce.

"Those were Avengers, these are _Starks_ ," said Namor as if that explained everything. The Atlantean slipped from the staircase and walked up to one of the anti-matter bombs. "What if these alternate Starks have a better warning system than we do? What if they know that our universes are about to collide?" Namor turned back towards them, eyes dark and bottomless. "What happens if they mean to do to us what we mean to do to them?"

Black Bolt silently reached out and tapped the metal shell of the weapon and a hollow, horrid sound reverberated around the room. It froze the blood in Tony's veins. His knuckles went white where he gripped the handrail too hard. Reed and Bruce were hunched over with concern, shooting nervous glances at each other because the central question was the same one they were all wrestling with: _if you needed to destroy someone else's planet to save your own, would you?_ Except this version was modified: _Would Tony Stark?_

Who among them would take that bet?

Tony made a concentrated effort to release his grip. "They're already in SHIELD custody. We don't know if they're dangerous. We don't even know what they know so it's a bit early to be plotting my assassination twice over, much as it may delight you."

Namor didn't even smile at that, a mark of the seriousness of the situation. "They're you, Stark. That is dangerous enough." No one rebuffed the Prince's assertion. These men, at least, knew better.

"Reed's right about one thing, we will need to know more," T'challa said.

Tony knew where this was going and decided to head the inevitable off at the pass. "Well, I just got emailed a goddamn invitation to the Helicarrier so I guess I volunteer to talk to myselves."

"I'm going with you," declared Bruce and everyone's heads swivelled. Bruce shrugged. "I have an in with SHIELD these days and it will be useful to have someone else there. Besides, if you want subtlety the six of you can't show up at HQ for a non-emergency. Director Hill will find that suspicious."

Reed nodded crisply. "T'challa and I will work on tracing how they arrived here. Everyone else-" Tony would have bet his entire fortune that if Richards were anyone else he would have said _pray_. As it was he meant monitor the Bridge for new, less-destructive ideas, watch their implants for alerts about the next Incursion and _hope_.

One by one they filed back out of the cavern, back to their lives and their families and their kingdoms but with the dreadful knowledge that universal destruction awaited them.

"I guess this means Bruce plans on keeping our secret for now," said Tony when Strange was the only one left.

Stephen sighed and pulled his cloak around him tighter. "Small mercies, Anthony, small mercies."

\----------------

Standing next to Leonard Samson and Maria Hill on the Helicarrier, Tony was hit with an odd sense of déjà vu. He'd known both of them for years, but any camaraderie or grudge between the three of them had been erased since Tony rather unilaterally opted out. See, Tony literally cannot remember anything about his time as Director of SHIELD. Given that Maria felt it necessary to have a psychologist on-hand for the (several) mental breakdowns he was having at the time because Steve was dead and Extremis was giving him hallucinations, Tony had come to the conclusion that this memory gap was not necessarily a bad thing. It succeeded in making everything awkward as hell though. Tony had no idea how to decode the concerned looks Leonard was constantly shooting his way and Maria seemed to be treating him more aloofly than usual to make up for any misconceptions regarding who was actually in charge here.

All of that paled in comparison to how disconcerting it was to be standing in front of two large isolation cells and seeing himself inside both. In the righthand cell, married to a hospital bed and IV line was his doppelgänger. On the left was a man who looked exactly like Tony if - in a fit of madness - he'd bleached his hair and decided the entirety of the world was beneath him.

"Note to self: blond is definitely not my best look," he murmured, trying for nonchalant.

Maria wasn't fooled. "Barton and Morse found them unconscious in Arlington four days ago."

Tony was almost too busy trying to figure out what business alternate-hims would have in Virginia that the important part of Maria's statement nearly bypassed him. "Wait, you've had them here for four days without telling me?"

Maria's calculating gaze snapped to his face. "I don't work for you, Stark, I owe you nothing," she said coldly. "When we ruled out shape-shifters and magic, I called in Leonard."

"And since when is Leonard - fantastic psychologist that he is - a more reliable expert on Tony Stark than me? No offense, Leo."

Leonard just shook his head, like he'd had some version of this conversation before, and said nothing.

Maria had no such qualms. "Since you deliberately gave yourself brain damage and had to be re-uploaded from a back-up hard drive." She made that sound like a _bad thing_ and pushed a finger into Tony's chest. "I have to remember all the parts you got to forget, Stark. So when I needed a second opinion I chose Leonard because he had the guts to remember too."

Tony inwardly cringed. It reminded him a bit of his drinking days when he'd wake up with no memory of the night before and everyone would gradually fill him in on what an asshole he'd been. It wasn't fun to be reminded that his term as Director was generally regarded as _stepdad-nobody-wants._

"I'm sorry," he said. The sentiment was true enough even if the exact nature of what he was apologizing for wasn't.

Maria just pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "When our scientists finally ran out of tests, I asked for a consultation. I asked everyone - including you - and all of a sudden the numerous super-geniuses in Manhattan all had better things to do than answer me."

 _Well, Maria, we were all a bit busy inducting Bruce Banner into the premier club for planetary destruction. Sorry we missed your call._ Tony rubbed at his temples where a headache was staring to make itself known. "So what do you know about them?" he asked, drawing their attention back to the prisoners.

It was Leonard who answered. "The current working theory on how they got here is parallel universes - not my field, so I can't tell you more. I can tell you that the you on the right is Anthony Edward Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, and Iron Man."

Tony stared at him, unimpressed. "Thanks for the update."

Leonard ignored him. "He's a dependent alcoholic which we found out when he manifested withdrawal symptoms two days ago. Hence the IV," Leonard motioned to the medical set-up and the line running under the sick man's hospital gown.

 _Christ_. "So he's the reappearance of my bad old days of drinking and superheroing. Anything else?"

"He also claims to have a sentient brain tumour named Anthony that helps him hack computers," Leonard replied nonchalantly. "Maybe Dr. Banner can take a look at his brain scans and tell us more."

 _What_. " - What?"

Leonard didn't stop to explain. "The good news is that the you on the left isn't you at all. He claims to be one Dr. Gregory Morgan Stark, CEO of Stark Global Solutions and- ah, that's as far as I've gotten with him."

 _So they're not both me. We're technically down one Tony Stark already. Take that Namor._ "Why? Is he not talking?"

"We stopped interrogating him," corrected Maria. "He never answered any of the questions we asked and once he figured out that we didn't know who he was I wasn't going to risk giving away any more information through probing questions about alternate universes."

Unlike the man on the right, the man on the left wasn't in a hospital gown but in what must have been Tony's old SHIELD uniform. The black of the cloth contrasted sharply with the lightness of his blond hair and made his blue eyes stand out harshly. He looked like a Commander in an alternate history Third Reich and Tony wondered if he'd looked as frightening when he'd worn it, if he'd commanded the same instinctual recoil.

"He scares you," Tony translated.

"Never," Maria replied and Tony believed her. "But we've been taking precautions. Neither of them know the other is here and those cells double as Faraday cages - no electronic signals in or out."

That wouldn't be enough. Not forever. Not if they were the least bit like him.

"A DNA comparison revealed they're brothers. Fraternal twins, possibly. I received preliminary confirmation from Reed Richards half an hour ago that they came from the same universe." She turned to look at him. "Anything you'd like to contribute, Stark?"

"I'm an only child."

"A fact for which SHIELD is everlastingly grateful."

Tony leaned toward the glass, watching his other self shiver on his cot despite the blankets, fighting the lack of poison in his body. "No one knows how they got here? Why they're here?" _Say, to blow up our Earth ahead of schedule?_

Leonard shook his head. "Neither of them claims to know anything about how they got here, though they both correctly identified a SHIELD Helicarrier from their surroundings and asked after the whereabouts of Nick Fury almost immediately. We haven't been able to nail down how they got here either, though I'm fairly confident Anthony at least isn't feigning his confusion on that front."

Tony let himself cautiously hope. Maybe they didn't know anything about the Incursions at all. Maybe these were completely independent events. "If you've got Richards working the parallel universe angle and Leonard for Stark-wrangling, why am I here, Director?"

Maria rolled her eyes at the formality of the title. "You and Banner are here to _fix this_. That's your only directive. The world has bigger problems than your existential crisis and I'm not going to waste my time playing referee, that's Leonard's job from here on out. You keep them contained, you don't give them tech, you don't interrupt my ops. Fix this, Stark. You may not remember owing me but trust me, you do."

And with that she whirled around and stalked off towards the bridge just as Bruce walked in.

"Hello, Leonard," said Bruce warmly with what looked like a medical file tucked under his arm. The look he shot Tony was considerably less friendly. "Hello, Tony."

"It's nice to see you again," Leonard replied, accepting the proffered handshake. Tony couldn't resist marvelling at the casualness of the gesture. Bruce seemed surprisingly relaxed for the depth of the knowledge he now carried with him. Tony had always walked around SHIELD feeling like a wolf in sheep's clothing, Bruce walked around it like Daniel in a den full of lions. Then again, Bruce knew how to keep a secret.

"Good news?" Banner asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really." Tony entered the passcode for the door to the first cell. "Let's get this catastrophe over with, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific warnings for this chapter.
> 
> For those keeping track this takes place sometime after _Avengers vs New Ultimates_ in the Ultimate Universe and _Cataclysm_. Meanwhile, it’s obviously Incursion time in Marvel 616 sometime between Avengers #23 when Bruce finds out and _Original Sin_. This story is clearly years late but I'm sticking to my resolutions and "finishing" my leftover projects. The first chapter (this one) was originally posted a year ago until I realized during editing that the whole plot had structural issues. Those have been fixed (I promise!) to the best of my abilities. The title has changed slightly because Latin wasn't taught to me in school. Canon will be at least passively acknowledged. Any timeline issues etc. are my own fault. The **T** rating is for swearing, kissing, and comic-levels of violence.
> 
> Updates will be weekly. Comments are welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Next up: _Anthony Stark just wants breakfast._ [Passive - A Perfect Circle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWkHQQpzuF8)


	3. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anthony Stark just wants breakfast._  
>  Music: [Passive - A Perfect Circle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMe4kVNKvNk)  
> All individual chapter warnings (if applicable) are listed in the endnotes.

Anthony awoke in SHIELD isolation with a languor many would have felt incongruous to his circumstance. To Anthony Edward Stark - Iron Man, International Playboy, and Universal Chew Toy - it was merely Wednesday. Not that Tuesday nights routinely ended with being thrown into a prison-cell-slash-electromagnetic-deadzone after being found passed-out in Virginia, but none of that rang particularly false; Anthony had awoken in much seedier places in much more extreme states of undress. He counted himself relatively lucky, it wasn't unknown for the Director to mete out harsher punishments for lighter infractions than some light alcohol poisoning in the DC suburbs.

Which is to say the ordinary events in Anthony's life were so extraordinary it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out something was wrong. The Helicarrier cell where they were letting him stew was nondescript but amenable - nothing like some of the cells Fury kept around "just in case". The agents Anthony met were cagey when he brought up any request to see the Director and that should have been his first clue. Instead he chalked it up to Nicky being an asshole because Anthony had been deliberately avoiding SHIELD's calls in favour of dying if not gracefully than at least not at the beck and call of Nick Fury.

It took him nearly 24 hours to even get an inkling that the situation was not as it seemed, because 24 hours in Anthony started sliding slowly and dramatically into alcohol withdrawal. He knew it was coming and that did nothing to help. He couldn't sit still. He was sweating, losing the ability to sleep, losing the ability to think. He couldn't eat. To add insult to injury, when the SHIELD medical personnel burst in they had the gall to ask what was wrong.

Anthony just stared at them as haughtily as he could from the floor. "It's not the brain tumour if that's what you're thinking. I just missed breakfast." The medic looked confused at the full food tray and Anthony had rolled his eyes. "Fetch me a martini would you, Darling? Breakfast of champions and all that, though I'd settle for a gin and tonic right now."

That was when Anthony began to suspect he was in the Twilight Zone because the young medic had looked at him with genuine surprise like the notion of _Anthony Stark: Practicing Alcoholic_ , or _Anthony Stark: Brain Cancer Patient_ , had never crossed her mind despite SHIELD having (unfortunately) plenty of blackmail material detailing both.

Much to Anthony's chagrin, any further investigation was immediately delayed when his cocktail order was ignored in favour of forcibly drying him out. The amount of invasive medical intervention required would have probably been humiliating to a man with more shame or less experience. The only thought that kept Anthony relatively passive was the knowledge that it would be proven a wasted effort. A sober Anthony Stark wasn't any better than a drunk Anthony Stark and when he proved it to Nicholas Fury there would be casualties.

On the fourth day a man with green hair arrived calling himself Dr. Leonard Samson (a psychiatrist and Anthony had smiled because doctors he tolerated, shrinks he _destroyed_ ). Samson told him what to expect from his body over the next couple weeks and the continuing symptoms of addiction to follow. Anthony had just laughed because who wanted to stay sober in the world they lived in?

But even Samson's platitudes were better than dealing with the silence in Anthony's own head. He had never thought of his tumour-induced delusion as comforting before, but there it was. He missed little hallucinatory-Anthony's joy and eagerness. He missed his help. Suddenly he was locked inside his own head without sufficient distractions or the numbing buzz of liquor and that was a very specific hell he'd always taken great pains to avoid. Trying to explain to the Doc that his distress was caused by _absence_ of his imaginary friend was an interesting experiment in testing the bounds of a professional psychologist's credulity. Anthony didn't particularly care if Samson thought him crazy. The only sane response to a crazy world was to go crazy yourself. Catch-22. QED. It's not like Nicky could afford anyone else.

The doctors had been the extent of Anthony's company for the past five days so when he heard someone enter the room he expected more of the same. Instead he found himself looking into a mirror: a man with dark hair, a sharp goatee. Same angular face, same long eyelashes, same straight nose -

Different eyes. Ice blue, not deep brown. Not his eyes, _Gregory's_.

Anthony shuddered and his reflection remained still. The illusion broken, he saw all the differences at once. His double's face lacked the sallowness of withdrawal and his hair was slightly longer - strands swept where Anthony's stood straight. Instead of a hospital gown he wore a black garment that looked like long underwear but made of some unknown material. The only interruption to the black was a burst of electric blue in the centre of his chest and the circuitry crawling up his left shoulder.

Anthony was cognizant of just how rundown he was in comparison. He eyed his double carefully. "When Samson told me I would have to face-up to myself during this process I didn't think he was being quite so literal. They must be giving me the good drugs."

His mirror-self gave a horrible twist of lips that could have been a smile. "Guess again, Pinnocchio. I think everyone'd agree we'd make a terrible Jiminy Cricket."

Anthony squeezed his eyes shut. "By any chance are you my brain tumour's new favourite hallucination?"

"Unlikely."

He opened his eyes again and found his double remained. "I suppose you're real then."

His doppelganger introduced himself needlessly. "I'm Tony Stark."

"Of course you are," Anthony muttered under his breath. He ignored the outstretched hand and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand instead. "I don't know about you but I'm much too sober for this conversation so -"

He scanned the room and was surprised to find someone else had snuck in during the conversation. He had been too fixated on his Double to notice. This other man was smaller and kept his head down, much more in line with the medics that were in and out as fast as possible. Except -

_Oh, Hell no._

"Hello, Anthony," the monster said and Anthony was all too aware he was trapped in this tiny cell. "I'm Bruce B -"

"I know who you are," Anthony interrupted, alert now. Nothing got the adrenaline pumping quite like a man who transformed into an unstoppable natural disaster at the drop of a hat.

His double looked surprised at what he correctly surmised was Anthony's agitation. "Bruce is just here to talk about your medical situation."

"Sure. Everyone brings the Hulk to a friendly chat. I also bring a bazooka to my weekly poker game." Anthony glared and his double met his gaze head on.

"I think everyone here would prefer if this remained a calm, friendly chat," Banner said as he eyed them both, "for your sakes if not mine."

Anthony would have dearly liked to be the kind of person who could take a warning like that under advisement but it just wasn't in him. The joys of contrarian actions were just too rewarding. "Of course," he smiled, falsely bright. "I can do calm and friendly. For instance, I distinctly remember helping drug you and leaving you to be nuked on an oil rig in the middle of the ocean."

Banner didn't even bat an eye, he just stared back blandly. "Hmmm - How'd that work out for you?"

Anthony was well aware his smile wasn't kind. "It didn't take and we are no longer friends."

Banner nodded his head in the doppelganger's direction. "Tony here once strapped me to a rocket and exiled me into deep space. It didn't take either. Jury's still out on the friendship."

Banner looked completely calm but Anthony saw his double look away and focus at half-distance. Anthony hated how easily he could read his guilt and felt a prick of unwanted empathy toward his captors. He sighed, hostility too tiring to keep up. " _Bruce Banner is the calm one_. This is the oddest thing that's happened to me lately."

"You woke up in SHIELD custody after being picked up unconscious in an alley. That's not odd to you?" His double asked sharply.

Anthony gave him his most lascivious smile, if only because it seemed so inappropriate. "I've had many memorable nights though I can't say I remember most of them if you catch my drift. I don't know what got SHIELD so interested this; I wasn't playing with anything I shouldn't have, well apart from the hot blonde's - "

"So you have no idea how you managed to get here, then?" Banner interrupted.

"Where is here, exactly? Clearly we're not just waiting on Fury because if he had well-behaved spare mes hanging around," and he motioned to his double who raised an eyebrow in amusement, "he'd have cut me loose long ago."

Banner and his double shared a look that Anthony couldn't quite decipher. Something sharp and ironic passing between them.

"Sorry, Dorothy. You aren't in Kansas anymore," his double said before holding both hands palms-up. Several blue holograms were projected above them. _Neat parlour trick,_ thought Anthony and only let a smidgen of envy colour his amazement at the technology. Manifested in the air above his head were full colour articles, diagrams, photos. The state of the world, history, the censored biography of one _Tony Stark_.

None of it matched his life.

"Welcome to the Multiverse, Anthony Edward Stark." His double smirked and Anthony suddenly realized why everyone hated it when they did that. "You've tunnelled straight into a parallel string and it's our job to get you home - provided you know where home is for you or at least how you got here." Both his double and Banner seemed quite keen on an answer.

Anthony didn't have one. The silence stretched uncomfortably but given the abrupt change in landscape that had just been revealed Anthony felt a small break was deserved. "I don't know," he answered finally.

His double's eyes were narrowed, like he expected any answer would be a lie. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"What it means everywhere: _I don't know_ ," Anthony bristled back. "I was drinking in my universe and then I woke up here. I didn't touch an ancient artifact or piss off an old fortune teller - "

" - So it wasn't magic."

Anthony's mind pivoted again. "I didn't build anything to bring me here either. The Fantastic Four opened a dimensional rift once - this was before Richards went all _psycho-killer, qu'est-ce que c'est_ \- and the world collectively decided that once was plenty times enough."

There was a pause.

"Reed Richards is a supervillain where you come from?" Banner asked.

"Well he wasn't until he nuked DC and took over the entirety of Western Europe - then he sort of set the new gold standard. Went full mad scientist and calls himself The Maker." His captors shared a look and Anthony hated them for it. "I promise I didn't show up here without an invitation just to ruin your day."

Banner decided a subject change was in order. "Tell me about the nanites."

Anthony did his best to look innocently surprised. "What nanites?"

His double rolled his eyes. "You have three billion nanites swarming through your bloodstream costing about 45 million dollars total. Let's start with those."

The need to keep information to himself warred with Anthony's natural pride as he debated how much to divulge. "The nanites help me control the Iron Man suit. They make up a programmable swarm that interfaces with the suit's sensors." There was no need to mention everything else the nanites could do: system access and infiltration were tools he might need later. "I thought you'd have something similar. Provided, of course, that climbing into heavy-metal death pajamas is something we have in common."

His double stared back at him evenly. "I object to the description but yes, I'm Iron Man here too. No nanites, though, too vulnerable to hacking."

 _Then don't let them get hacked_ , the flippant voice in Anthony's head said. No one was better at nanite programming than him - not even Gregory. "You're missing out. They help quite a bit with hangovers, though they're not so great at managing withdrawal. It never occurred to me to program them to manufacture ethanol. Hence my quitting cold turkey, there's an appalling lack of bars in this place." Anthony smiled warmly at his double who scowled. "And I'm willing to bet you've got that beautiful engraved flask we stole from Father on you, filled with -" he appraised his mirror-self, " -bourbon? Whiskey? Something sweeter - mimosa maybe?"

His double glared with what Anthony thought was exaggerated condemnation. It felt odd to see his own face reflecting that look of disgusted superiority. Gregory had worn it much better.

"It's nine in the morning," his double nearly growled.

Anthony just smiled languidly. "If you lived where I did, Darling, you'd be several thousand drinks behind by now and I'd be graciously accepting your apologies. Take heart, if it's still as early as you say it is there's still time for you to catch up."

"I don't drink anymore." The last word seemed to have slipped out unbidden.

The confession only drew a laugh from Anthony. "Well-behaved and _sober_? God, Nicky would have loved you. I assume you skipped the brain cancer too." His double nodded and Anthony shook his head. "Some guys have all the luck."

His double ducked his head, presumably in agreement, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, blotting out the light at its centre.

"Leonard mentioned you talk to your tumour and it - uh, he talks back," Banner tried.

Anthony redirected his attention back to the other scientist. "Talked. Past-tense. Little-Anthony's been quiet since I arrived here."

His double's expression soured. "You named your malignant brain tumour after yourself. This is why people think we have issues."

Anthony rounded on him. "What issues could you possibly have Mr. Sober-and-healthy-and-also-the-Hulk-is-sort-of-my-friend?"

His double's eyes burned but he didn't answer and Anthony recognized the concentrated silence of a man biting his tongue.

"Your tumour - "

"Is a malignant astrocytoma. Inoperable." Anthony's fingers automatically searched out the spot at the back of his head, three inches above the nape of his neck. His brain working against itself - growing a little ball of death against his will. It was somewhat horrendously fitting that the only thing Anthony ever had worth saving would be the thing that killed him.

"I was in remission for awhile." He smiled weakly. Not anymore. "Eventually it will grow large enough to start impinging on the parts of my brain that control automatic reflexes; breathing and cardiac function essentially." He paused. "That's how I'll die. My heart and lungs will forget how to keep me alive." He shuddered and hoped it came off as a shrug instead of a shiver. "If I live that long of course - superheroes aren't known for their long lifetimes."

His double drummed two fingers over the centre circuitry of his chest. "I'm sorry."

For some odd reason Anthony expected more. Something that actually helped, that marked his double as different from the parade of piteous mourners or the gleeful mob who thought he deserved it but no, it turned out this version of himself was just like all the rest.

"Actually," Banner spoke up, "according to the most recent scans the mass in your head seems to be benign. We'll have to do more tests to confirm of course, but the preliminary results are fairly conclusive."

Anthony's thought process screeched to a halt as his brain raced to parse Banner's words. "It's inert?"

Banner looked neither pleased nor distraught. "As far as SHIELD, myself, and Hank McCoy can tell, yes."

 _Benign_. Not benevolent, not gone; but the gun Anthony had had pointed at his head had been unloaded for some unfathomable reason. Both Banner and his double looked at him like he should say something and Anthony struggled to find the words. "Then -"

"Congratulations," his double said wearily, without enthusiasm, "You're no longer dying."

"At least no faster than the rest of us," Banner added tiredly and there was something bitter underneath it that Anthony recognized but couldn't name.

He was too caught up in _No longer dying_. No more Little Anthony. _And I never got to say goodbye_. He supposed he should feel unbridled joy but it bothered him more than he let on that a permanent fixture of his life should just vanish. A relationship in which he wasn't the parasitic one had dissolved without his involvement and he felt himself missing it, just like he missed booze. Doc Samson was right about all the conflicted feelings.

"So if you're not here on purpose, what do you plan on doing now?" Banner asked.

 _Now that you're going to live_ and it didn't feel like relief, it felt like losing his footing next to a bottomless pit. Now the future was open - his to navigate, or reject, or fear. Now he was responsible for it. "No idea. I never really had a plan. Iron Man was the plan," Anthony tacked on softly, vaguely aware it sounded like a death wish - one last reckless push he was not designed to survive. Across from him his double just nodded, like he expected nothing more or less of any version of himself. "I suppose I should go back."

"You don't want to?" Banner eyed him suspiciously, like he was trying to find fault.

"I wouldn't be missed," Anthony replied truthfully. "Why? Is there an excess of people who love us in this universe?"

His double barked a laugh and Anthony took that as proof enough that sobriety and health were not quite the cure for _being Tony Stark_ that people had always told him it would be.

"Listen," Anthony tried, "where I come from Spider-man's dead, New York's underwater and the country's on the brink of civil war. I'm not -" he looked down at his hands because it made him feel like less of a coward, "I'm not in any particular hurry to get back to that."

It was true too. Sure, he was leaving Carol in a pretty shitty position but she always landed on her feet. Ditto Thor, and Fury could go screw himself. Besides, it was - kinder here and it surprised him how much that pulled at his frayed heart. The SHIELD interrogations didn't involve torture, Banner kept his temper and even had a sense of humour. His other self was - if not happy, then at least he hadn't destroyed everything yet.

"What about your brother?" his double asked. "You'd be leaving him behind."

Gregory. Greg. Anthony was unprepared for the acute stab of sadness the name conjured. He shook his head sharply and dizziness swam up. "I don't know what he's like here but Gregory - " he stumbled over the next word, " - _my_ Gregory was a manipulative, arrogant bastard who eventually turned into a sociopathic supervillain. Or maybe that's what he always was, I don't really know."

"Was?"

"He's dead," Anthony replied harshly, Greg didn't deserve any of the emotions that lingered. "I helped kill him." He still remembered using his EMP blast, watching triumphantly as his arrogant older brother realized his tech was gone. Then came the flash of white that was Thor's lightning and then - then it wasn't a homicidal megalomaniac anymore, it was just his twin brother lying dead on the ground and Anthony had won - was left the final victor in their sibling rivalry - and it hadn't been worth it.

Neither of his captors said anything at the confession; no condemnation, no questions. Instead his double spoke slowly, "In this universe, I don't have a brother. Gregory Stark doesn't exist here." He projected new holograms out of his skin. A video this time of a man who looked impossibly like Greg in an isolation cell that looked exactly like this.

Something rusted by meds and withdrawal in Anthony's brain turned over and his eyes widened. _Oh_.

"Our universe didn't just stop your brain tumour, it apparently resurrected your brother."

\-----------------

His visitors left, leaving him alone with his own thoughts; the cruel bastards. Just because Anthony's mind wasn't eating itself alive in the literal sense anymore didn't mean it couldn't try metaphorically.

_Greg's alive. Your older brother's alive, you didn't kill him._

_Well, you did but it didn't stick._

Gregory had never forgiven his twin anything, he was unlikely to start with battlefield murder. Even Anthony was self-aware enough to acknowledge that mourning his brother and wanting Greg resurrected were not similar sentiments. Gregory's apparent death-defying presence caused a surge of anxiety. Anthony desperately needed a drink and he didn't even have terminal illness as an excuse anymore, how unfair was that?

He was left to stew in his own inadequacy and confusion for what felt like hours but might have been about twenty minutes. Eventually the silence overtook the thundering of his heart and the buzzing under his skin stopped. It took Anthony another ten minutes or so to realize the relief wasn't psychosomatic but real. The electronic signal jamming the nanites in his blood had disappeared and now the microscopic machines where flowing freely, still whirling but with power-on self-tests instead of hostile paralysis. It was an odd feeling; like he was being recharged from under his skin. SHIELD security was still up and running so his nanites couldn't interface with any of the tech in his cell but the fact that SHIELD was no longer jamming Anthony's specific connection to his biotech couldn't be an accident. He carefully removed the IV needle from his arm and padded barefoot to the door of his cell, his suspicions confirmed when it opened at his approach. The large corridor outside already contained an observer and Anthony recognized the silhouette tapping away at what looked like a SHIELD tablet.

Anthony's fingers itched to get hold of it. "What's up, Doc?"

Samson's green hair swished over his shoulder. "Who let you out?"

"Tony did," came a voice from the shadows and suddenly Banner was standing beside them. "I'm sure Anthony will behave." It wasn't quite a threat but the implication was there just the same. Anthony just nodded once in Banner's direction, there was no way he could take out the Hulk even if he had his suit.

Both doctors redirected their gazes back towards the false window of a second isolation cell snuggled right next to Anthony's own. The tableau the one way glass presented was wrong not in the least because if felt like an out-of-body experience. It was as if Anthony was watching himself from the position of an outsider. His double was sprawled in a chair, right ankle crossed over his left knee. Anthony had thought him calm and collected during their conversation but contrasted against the figure across from him he looked rebellious and dishevelled.

On the other side of the table was Gregory. He was sitting tall in the other metal-backed chair wearing a black military-looking SHIELD uniform that when mixed with his Aryan colouring made him look like an evil general from the Empire Strikes Back and not at all like a charred, burnt-out husk in a North Korean plaza.

Anthony felt the world tilt as the lines between the living and the dead blurred. "Greg always preferred white," he pushed the words past his lips, feeling suddenly dizzy, "I don't know who that is."

But of course he did. He knew Gregory from the very moment he was born because his older brother had a twenty-minute lead on him and never let him forget it. Samson looked up from his tablet at Anthony's swaying form. He reached out a slow hand and when it wasn't rejected let it fall on Anthony's forearm. It felt like an anchor and Anthony was never fond of that metaphor until now.

Banner flicked a switch and the audio feed from the isolation cell flooded out. Anthony was utterly unprepared to hear his brothers voice as it flooded the dark corridor. It was exactly as Anthony remembered it: condescending and cold because apparently in any universe - even one where Tony Stark was born an only child - no one could make perfect, pristine Gregory growl like that except his brother. Anthony used to be proud of that back when he had thought Greg's bark worse than his bite.

" -heard Thor fried you in North Korea," his double was saying with the tact of a rhino and Anthony winced. "What a way to go, literally struck down by a God."

Greg's lip curled. "Thor is nothing but an overgrown hippie with delusions of grandeur." Disdain dripped from his voice. "It's simply unfortunate that no scheme is immune from idiots."

His double tipped his head to the side. "I also heard your own brother helped kill you." Anthony's mouth went dry but the pronouncement didn't seem to effect Greg at all.

"Which only proves my point," Gregory sneered, "my brother is a naive simpleton who thinks the world can be solved with action figures and autographs." He raked a dismissive gaze up and down the other man. "I see you take after him."

"Thank you," his double replied promptly. "For the record I think you're an egocentric prick and I'm suddenly having flashbacks to all the times other people have told me that."

"It's not arrogance if I'm right."

"Everyone literally ganged up to kill you."

Greg's eyes narrowed. "Dying did not make me _wrong_."

So it hadn't been an LMD in North Korea. It had been his brother who died and his brother who had now been revived by nefarious forces for no doubt nefarious purposes.

Blue stare met blue stare but his double's held an insolent spark. "Sounds like they got it right."

Greg's face only registered contempt and his voice lowered. "Your universe can't be any better than mine, Stark, otherwise it wouldn't require people like you."

For a moment Anthony fancied he saw something calculating cross his double's face. "How did you know this wasn't your native universe?"

A sardonic blond eyebrow went up. "Apart from your presence in lieu of my brother?" Greg stood and planted himself in front of the false glass, staring outward at the onlookers still hidden from view. "The last time I saw Nicholas Fury I had him riddled with bullets and electrocuted while I destroyed him team and took his job out from under him. If this were my universe the only reason I would wake up in SHIELD custody is to give Nick a chance to gloat before he blew my head off."

His double's head tilted thoughtfully. "Some would even say you deserve it. You played two superhero teams against each other, took over SHIELD by executive order, and invaded a sovereign nation under a false flag operation."

Greg scoffed, his attention turning back to his interrogator. "Come now, Stark, don't tell me you haven't done at least two of those things, albeit to your lesser standards."

His double hesitated a split-second too long and Anthony knew Greg had hit his mark. Beside him, Samson leaned forward in concern.

"My _standards_ are the reason I won't let myself be caught dead in a three-piece white suit," his double covered easily, "and fashion advice aside, what I really want to know is how you and your brother got here."

Diversion. Wrong move. Gregory was like a shark who scented blood. You had to pretend the wound didn't bleed; he was too focused to be distracted. He enjoyed the kill far too much.

Greg utterly ignored the question. "I know quite a bit about you, Stark." His eyes sparkled brightly like they only did when he was furious. "For instance, I know you started your own superhero civil war and when you won you couldn't handle it. You're so pathetic that victory managed to defeat you. SHIELD was yours and you accomplished... Nothing. At least I had conviction, I died for my vision of the future. You killed for yours and then choked on the follow-through." He leaned toward the other man and hissed. "You don't even remember how badly you fucked up. How you watched Steve Rogers die - "

"Gregory shouldn't know that," Samson gritted out to no one in particular. _"Tony_ doesn't even know that anymore."

 _How the fuck do you forget a thing like that,_ Anthony wanted to shout. Behind him Banner yelled at someone called Maria through an intercom about a carrier-wide systems breach. _Too late_ , rang the voice of experience in Anthony's head. He saw the familial resemblance between the two men in the cell now. Both were standing, snarling at each other, the table a pitiful obstacle between them.

Greg had left all decorum behind. " - it doesn't matter what you do, there's too much of my brother in you for you to do anything but fail."

His double growled back. "Last time I checked, your brother won."

"I remember," Greg conceded mildly but he leaned forward with that tiny, one-sided smile that meant _Checkmate_ and Anthony felt his blood freeze. "But I'm not playing Anthony this time. This time I'm playing _you_."

All at once the lights on the Helicarrier exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ brief description of alcohol withdrawal symptoms.
> 
> I'm following the convention that Ultimate!Tony has brown eyes and 616!Tony has blue eyes. As far as I know this was a difference the writers only came up with when writing _Ultimate End_ and needed to visually distinguish the two of them. I've made it permanent here. Also Reed Richards as the Maker joins Miles Morales as the only two things worth saving from the Ultimate Universe. I've also totally ignored _Ultimate Human_ here with regards to Anthony and Banner's relationship.
> 
> I quite like Tony's undersuit as drawn in _Secret Wars: Civil War (2015)_ by Leinil Yu so that's what I picture him in. There is no canonical basis for this in 616. I always thought SHIELD uniforms were a bit _Empire Strikes Back_ and I can't imagine how scary Greg would look if he didn't have white as his signature colour. This is not how brain cancer/alcohol addiction/EMPs/Faraday cages/nanites work but quite frankly it's not like Marvel knows how they work either.
> 
> Comments are welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Next up: _Power's out._ [Neighbourhood #3 (Power Out) - Arcade Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ozdCLrTrtA)


	4. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Power's Out._  
>  Music: [Neighbourhood #3 (Power Out) - Arcade Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ozdCLrTrtA)  
> All individual chapter warnings are listed in the endnotes.

For half a second bright sparks rained down from the overhead conduits like a shower of falling stars before darkness swallowed the ship whole. The Helicarrier groaned in the artificial dark like a submarine under pressure. Anthony held his breath as the ship seemed to contemplate the merits of gravity. In the total blackness the only illumination he could see was the eerie blue-white glow of the circuitry on his double's undersuit and the blinking LED of Samson's discarded tablet.

Suddenly Anthony felt a familiar electric surge in his blood as his nanites took advantage of the security lapse. All the fuzziness in the signal was gone. He was released from the blank, hollow silence into a rushing river of radio streams as the SHIELD emergency systems fought to keep them all aloft. His nanites weren't quite at full functionality - he was missing his armour - but they were operational. And with most of the mirror-universe cybersecurity preoccupied it wouldn't be a bad time to take a peek under the hood sort to speak. But before Anthony could follow that thought further a new, horrible thought occurred: if his own biotech was up and running that meant -

Inside the isolation cell there was a bright white crackle as lightning was spun between fingers.

_Gregory's back online. Everybody run._

Greg's biotech wasn't designed for interfacing with armour; his swarm of nanites were weapons in and of themselves. Another spiderweb of lightning threw off a brilliant flash of light, throwing their maker's face into sharp relief. He looked like pale Death. In the split-second of illumination Anthony saw a flare of recognition in his double's eyes as they came to the same epiphany: _We are so fucked_.

Greg clucked his tongue as he looked down at his prey. "When will you learn I am better than you in _every_ universe, Brother."

That was all the warning he gave before a tendril of forked lightning sent Anthony's double crashing into the opposite wall. He fell to the floor in a heap. Dead. Greg never played around, not with the people who questioned him. They were dealt with swiftly and without remorse as Anthony had come to find out the day he looked into Greg's eyes and saw nothing of his brother left.

Anthony couldn't save this universe's Tony Stark. He might not even be able to save himself. He had no suit, no team, no Thor, no EMP. He couldn't rely on Fury's cruel paranoia to save them. This universe had never met the force of nature that was Gregory Stark without his mask of civility and that blessing would be their downfall.

Greg was a silhouette in the dark as he contemplated the corpse on the floor, nudging it with his foot. When the body remained stationary he bent down, illuminated by the dead man's undersuit still pulsing a soft blue. He seemed to hesitate before one hand darted out quickly as if God might catch him in the act; pale fingers brushing black hair back from the corpse's forehead and Anthony must have been mistaken because in the cyan glow the expression on his brother's face was something approaching regret. Why _this_ Tony Stark deserved such consideration when Anthony was merely an obstacle in Greg's Grand Scheme did nothing but send a spike of childish jealously through him. It did no good to envy dead men.

As if sensing his thoughts, Greg turned around and stared at Anthony as if the one-way mirror between them was nothing but a pane of glass. Anthony's heart skipped several beats. 

The Helicarrier rallied. It gave one last onerous creak before stabilizing and dim red emergency lights flooded the corridor as the ship went to back-up power. Alarms rang out but at least Greg hadn't been stupid enough to cut engine power, they were still hanging in the sky. Anthony was only vaguely aware of Samson trying to hustle him towards the exit as he stood pinned under Greg's impossible stare.

Then there was the short electric whine of a repulsor and an energy pulse took Gregory straight through the false window, shattering the glass. He grunted as he landed in the red light of the hallway and dragged himself upright, pausing only to dust the glass fragments off his borrowed uniform.

He met Anthony's alarmed eyes with no shock whatsoever. "Good evening, little brother," he greeted as he raised his arm.

Anthony froze as if to give his brother the free shot he deserved.

Banner tackled him out of the way.

"Stay down," Banner hissed in his ear after they hit the floor, "and whatever you do don't piss me off. The Hulk might have a bit of difficulty differentiating between three Starks and he's not particularly fond of any of you right now."

Released from his disbelief, Anthony looked back. "What about - "

"Tony will be fine." Banner's smile was tight. "He's made of iron a bit more literally these days."

Anthony looked back towards the demolished cell. The Dead didn't stay dead in this universe. 

"Hands up, Grand Moff," his clearly-still-alive double gritted out as he climbed to his feet, blood dribbling down his chin and gauntlet repulsor glowing. Resurrection it seemed, ran in the family.

Greg's features were harsh. "You're not dead."

"Not yet," the smile that followed was awful, "and you won't be what kills me."

Greg sneered. "You're as tragically disappointing as my little brother."

Anthony watched his double launch himself at Greg - a futile gesture given the latter had his biotech back and functioning - except in mid-air his double _changed_. The Iron Man suit rippled out from under his skin, wrapping itself around his body in black and gold plates. The hand that grabbed Gregory by the collar and slammed him into the wall was augmented by 750 pounds of force. Greg's electricity skittered across the outside of the suit and before being channeled harmlessly away. A repulsor was levelled at his face in automatic threat.

" _I am **not** your little brother, Blondie. Remember that._" The Iron Man helmet didn't snarl but it might have if it could.

They were all frozen in that pantomime arrangement as security forces came flooding down the corridor.

"Stark!"

Both Tonys had been conditioned to obey any order given in that voice and they instantly redirected their focus to Cap. Gregory, contrary son of bitch that he was, did not. Which was how a concussive flash-bang scattered the approaching security forces and sent Cap and Hawkeye scrambling for cover while Gregory slipped Iron Man's grip. Anthony whirled around, forgotten in the fracas and invisible in the dim lighting. Greg had retreated back to the blown-out cell and no one not insulated followed someone overflowing with electricity onto conductive flooring. In the corner Doc was doing breathing exercises with Banner to calm him down and Anthony was not currently suicidal enough to interrupt.

Samson's tablet lay between them, its insistent LED blinking in time to Anthony's pulse. Without pausing Anthony scooped it up, tapping away before retreating behind a sturdy metal desk. SHIELD needed whatever-the-hell-Gregory-had-done out of their systems and Anthony suspected their resident tech genius was currently engaged in live-action Mortal Kombat roleplay in the cell next door. Luckily for them, they currently had a spare. Anthony didn't have his suit, his team, or his tumour-hallucination, but he did have extensive practice kicking Gregory out of places he didn't belong and 45 million dollars worth of bored nanites itching for something to do.

There was precious little 'hacking' involved, Samson hadn't even had time to logout. The Doc must have been higher in the SHIELD food chain than Anthony had thought because his clearance was only two levels below the Director; who in this universe was decidedly neither male nor had a name rhyming with _Slurry_. Speed was of the essence and Anthony concentrated; filtering out the pulsating lights and various alarms and commands. The SHIELD tech didn't interface with his nanites natively but he could network them into a rudimentary system that could. Information flickered across the tablet screen; logs, time clocks, encrypted files, prototypes, passwords. All of it useless. Until -

_There_.

Gregory's virus was elegant. He was incapable of designing things that weren't which made them incredibly easy to spot in the backend code-jungle preferred by most software developers. His creation was a small, self-replicating, mutating chain. A swarm of virtual nanites freezing parts of SHIELD's systems in turn as they searched, which implied that Gregory thought there was something worth searching for. All this - the lights, the fight - was merely a theatrical diversion as his virus tunnelled deeper into SHIELD's systems. Even if it had been discovered SHIELD could hardly pull the plug, they'd fall out of the sky.

Patterns of 1s and 0s shifted like a flock of birds in flight as Greg's searchers wreaked carefully-constructed havoc. Whatever they were looking for, SHIELD clearly had no record of it. It had already been minutes and no Stark required that much lead time for a virtual smash and grab. The virus was spinning in circles, chasing after what wasn't there. Greg made perfect creations that never quite accounted for the imperfect world. Anthony was smarter: if what Greg wanted wasn't on SHIELD's main servers, it was locked off somewhere else. It would be running alongside and parallel to mainstream traffic but not part of it. Anthony reached out with his nanites, looking for signals in the background noise that weren't viruses but weren't SHIELD.

He found three. The foreign programs showed up on Doc's tablet; strings of machine code Anthony could barely recognize let alone translate. The first signal was obviously Gregory's: his biotech perfect and precise in long pulses of alien frequencies. Anthony couldn't read a single command let alone disable it. The second signal must have been his double's; melodic and practical, with enough evolving encryption you might have mistaken it for a living, breathing organism. The third signal was his own: cross-linked and staccato but there seemed something off. Anthony knew his own code like the back of his hand but something was wrong -

He never figured out what that strange intuition was because he stumbled abruptly upon a fourth signal. It was merely a wisp, a ghost through the clash and clatter. It was emanating from the Iron Man armour below and yet distinct from him. Anthony would have bet his life that his double didn't write it. It was short, compact, efficient. Anthony recognized the style right away. He had glimpsed it only once before and had rather hoped never to do so again.

Before he could process that finding he was nearly run over in the dark.

"I have a shot. Repeat, I have a shot." A pause. "Negative, Clint is too far out of position."

Anthony didn't need any more surprises today but he knew that voice too. Alt-Natasha stood five feet to his left, weapon raised towards the duelling men below and Anthony didn't even think. If he had he may have reasoned that a universe that allowed the Hulk to remain in SHIELD's good graces might allow for the loyalty of a Russian Spy. Instead his instincts took over and he tackled her from her blindside in much the same way Banner had done to him. Hand-to-hand was not his forte and while withdrawal and bedrest had severely messed with his coordination and muscle tone, he did have the element of surprise.

In no way, shape, or form was that enough. The Black Widow's kick sent him spinning into the opposite corridor wall.

"He's got Nat!" someone yelled from behind him which seemed a bit of an over-exaggeration given the bruise Anthony could already feel forming under his left eye.

Then suddenly and without warning Anthony lost control. Literally. He became a passenger in his body as he was forced to his knees, his torso suddenly too heavy for his joints to support even though no one had touched him. He couldn't move, couldn't twitch. He was a puppet under unknown command. There wasn't anything to struggle against, his muscles simply no longer obeyed him. His mind screamed even as his lips remained as still as a statue's. His hands moved to the back of his head involuntarily in surrender.

Through watery eyes he saw Cap's shield fly across the room below and hit Greg who was too preoccupied with Iron Man to have seen it coming; the two of them working in perfect symmetry. When Greg turned towards the new threat, Iron Man took advantage and shot him at nearly point-blank range. Greg's nanite defense shell had finally been worn down and he hit the floor as both men advanced, weapons out and aimed, pinning him.

Anthony literally couldn't look away. He couldn't even blink. He was going to watch his brother die again. He was going to watch a man who looked exactly like himself do it.

_Please_ , he pleaded to no one, gagged and bound by invisible forces, _not again._

The fallen SHIELD agents were back up on their feet: half of them with their weapons trained on Anthony's slumped figure, the other half in a loose semi-circle around Greg. The Avengers stood over him; victorious like they had been before in a universe not unlike this one.

Except no one took the easy shot, not even Hawkeye.

"Stay down," Cap ordered instead.

Greg, still alive ( _thank god, still alive_ ) ( _oh **shit** , still alive_), turned over. His eyes were burning but he obeyed. He did nothing more than raise his hand and wipe the vivid red blood from his lip. Iron Man's repulsors charged, daring him to take another liberty.

"That goes for you too." Cap's voice rang sharply as he turned towards Anthony, evidently unaware that Anthony's body was no longer his to control.

Anthony could feel the cold barrel of Alt-Natasha's gun against the back of his skull. Hawkeye joined her a moment later, arrow nocked. "Don't even twitch, Tweedle-Dee. Taking you out is as close to wish fulfillment as a lot of these guys are going to get."

" _He can't_ ," came Iron Man's distorted voice. Anthony watched as Alt-Natasha and Barton's heads swung in unison. The two spies were still perfect here. It was a pity Anthony's universe destroyed them.

Iron Man was suddenly standing over him. " _Don't bother fighting it_." The computer-altered voice was cold, as cold as Gregory's had been at Father's funeral. " _I hacked the nanites in your blood. I did warn you it was the primary reason I decided against them_."

That was why the jamming signal had been dropped, that was the infection Anthony had sensed in his signal. He would have grimaced if he could.

Iron Man continued, " _Right now I'm only suppressing your voluntary muscle control."_

Maybe only Anthony heard the implication behind those words: that his double could turn off Anthony's automatic reflexes at will too. Like breathing. 

The Iron mask gave nothing away, eye slits glowing. " _Can I trust you to play nice?"_

Anthony suddenly found his vocal cords unfrozen. "I'll be good. I promise."

There was an electronic crackle that might have been a snort and then Anthony slumped as his muscles were released from their unnatural stillness. He took deep breaths as adrenaline flooded his system, no longer held back artificially. He slowly climbed to his feet and the semi-circle of guards rearranged themselves. A quick glance confirmed that Hawkeye had not been joking about everyone's preparedness to shoot him. He was marched over to where Gregory was still sprawled on the ground. His twin didn't even deign to look at him. Greg's blood streaked from his lip and vanished into the black of his borrowed clothes. All his concentration was focused on where Iron Man had retracted his helmet becoming Anthony's double once again. Or rather just _Stark_ because Anthony was pretty sure no alternate version of himself had quite that much of Gregory's ruthlessness.

The brothers were forgotten in the shuffle as heroes and agents milled about in the excitement. Samson scooped up the discarded tablet none the wiser, tucking it into his jacket. Stark and some others were picking up where Anthony had left off, purging the rest of Gregory's confused virus from SHIELD's systems. There was a clang of success as normal lighting resumed; the red cast lifting and Anthony blinked in the sudden onset of halogens.

Greg finally turned towards him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Anthony rather felt like _his_ presence was being treated like the unpleasant miracle here and not the other way around.

"If you're keeping track this is actually too soon for our next family reunion," Anthony offered quietly, aiming for blase.

Greg said nothing, just leaned over and tugged him closer and Anthony braced for the shove that never came. The hug was utterly unexpected and the lack of practice rendered it nearly violent. His brother wasn't affectionate, even on those few occasions when their relationship expressed itself in messed-up ways other than insults or espionage. Far from being a ghost, Greg felt like the only solid thing in a universe of slippery shadows and Anthony resisted the urge to find comfort in it.

"Hey! Break it up!" some goon yelled.

Anthony retreated to a safe distance but he could still feel Gregory's lips against the shell of his ear, the whispered words echoing in his head: _Stark's lying to us. He's lying to **everyone**. _

Thing was, Anthony knew it was worse than Gregory suspected. Whatever Stark's secret was it had nothing at all to do with SHIELD. Greg didn't know about the fourth signal. Anthony fancied he could still see it, emanating its whispering pulse from Stark's left hand. It carried the sinister mark of the Maker.

Reed Richards, it seemed, was well at work in this universe as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ Violence. Forcibly taking over someone's muscle control which is... possession, I guess?
> 
> I have no idea how "nanites" are supposed to work in the Ultimates Universe. They help Anthony pilot the Iron Man and he used them to take over (bad) Natasha so I sort of went with that. Similarly, where did Gregory get his superpowers during _Avengers vs New Ultimates_? Beyond "technology" we never get an answer so he gets nanites and electrical powers/shielding because I want him to. If Tony doesn't have his Bleeding Edge armour at this point in the 616 timeline that sucks but I'm not going to fix it. 
> 
> "Anthony" will always refer to Ultimate!Tony. "Stark" or "Tony" will refer to 616!Tony.
> 
> Up next: _Maria Hill is not happy._ [The Pretender - Foo Fighters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBjQ9tuuTJQ)


	5. Roundtable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maria Hill is not happy. No one is, really._  
>  Music: [The Pretender - Foo Fighters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBjQ9tuuTJQ)  
> Individual chapter warnings are listed in the endnotes.

The SHIELD conference room was filled with everyone involved in the prisoner incident or as Clint had taken to calling it, _Stark's psychodrama_. An emergency meeting had been called to debrief them though Tony knew it was mostly an excuse for Maria to yell at him. Loudly and with due cause.

And true to his prediction, Maria was pissed.

"Two prisoners who weren't a priority spent a total of four hours under your supervision and managed to break out of their cells, hack into SHIELD, develop superpowers, and nearly knock us out of the sky. I'm particularly interested in your explanation given I specifically told you to _keep them away from tech, keep them contained,_ and _keep them from fucking up my ops_."

Tony tapped his pen on the table. "Only one of them broke out. I let the other one out."

"I'm not hearing a distinction," Maria nearly growled.

Cap came to the rescue as always. "I'm sure Tony has a reasonable explanation."

Steve shot him a small smile and it was almost enough to send Tony fleeing from the room. He closed his eyes to avoid it instead. "I let Anthony out because I wanted him to trust me."

"And because having complete control of the nanites in his blood meant you could play him like a violin," Leonard added with a hint of rebuke.

"Which everyone agrees was suuuuper-creepy by the way," Clint interjected.

Leonard wasn't smiling. "Quite the trust exercise."

"It was a back-up plan, I never expected to actually use it," Tony replied. He knew without turning that Steve would be frowning. It had been a preemptive precaution and a necessary evil neither of which Cap was fond of. Tony already had a full catalogue of Steve's disappointment, he didn't need to add more. "The programming wouldn't have kicked in if Helicarrier cyber-security wasn't compromised."

"But it was, we just didn't know about it," Bruce added, looking ruffled but calm, "and if Tony _hadn't_ had backdoor access..." He shrugged. "...who knows what would have happened."

Tony released a silent breath as Bruce's implication made its way along the table. Leonard's expression soured, Maria's was thoughtful. Tony didn't risk looking at Steve.

"What was the plan if he'd attacked while security was still up and running?" Natasha asked, easily winning least-effected by today's events.

"The plan was: he's a detoxing alcoholic who hasn't eaten solid food in the last 48 hours," Tony answered. He couldn't take anyone in this room hand-to-hand on a good day and Anthony was coming off a string of bad ones.

Leonard swooped in. "Both Dr. Banner and myself were more than capable of handling supervision. Anthony wasn't the problem, Gregory was."

"Which one's Gregory?" Clint asked flippantly before looking around the table. "I'm not joking. I may have brought them in but unconscious people can't tell me their names. When the alarms went off I just grabbed my bow and hoped I didn't accidentally shoot the real Tony."

"Gregory's the evil twin."

"How can you tell who's evil? They all have trademark supervillain facial hair," Clint asked with a completely straight-face.

Several people glared at the archer this time, Tony among them. "Gregory is the one who looks like Colonel Sanders. Anthony is the one who looks like he's gone through a couple rounds of chemotherapy because he has."

Everyone froze in mild shock. It occurred to Tony that they must have all attributed Anthony's general air of ill-health to alcohol alone. Tony had certainly given them the platonic example all those years ago. "He's fine now," Tony amended awkwardly. "I mean he misses talking to his malignant brain tumour but I was mostly chalking that up to absinthe and eccentricity."

Nobody quite knew what to say to that. It was a showstopper, certainly.

Maria cleared her throat. "I'm still waiting for someone to explain to me why I had a carrier-wide systems breach."

Bruce nodded. "Gregory has a swarm of nanites as well - a different model than Anthony's. They weren't detectable in his bloodstream but I did detect some in the blood of the SHIELD interrogators he's had this week. They carried his nanites out of the isolation cell and once out of the cage they had access to a much less shielded computer system. It would have been slow going but he probably had low-level access to your systems the day he was brought aboard. He's just been biding his time."

"Why wait until now?" Steve asked, ever the tactician. "What made him decide to jailbreak today instead of yesterday? Instead of tomorrow?"

Everyone looked at Tony like he had somehow developed telepathy when it came to his doppelgangers. "I have no idea. Maybe I pissed him off. Maybe he was just being dramatic; SHIELD picked him up in an all-white duster after having risen from the dead, he's clearly not above a little theatre."

"You don't upload your armour schematics to SHIELD servers," Steve reasoned. "Gregory had no idea you carry the suit with you everywhere you go. So maybe he attacks once SHIELD surveillance tells him you've released his brother and they both escape."

Tony grimaced. "I'm pretty sure they don't have that type of relationship, Cap. Too much bad blood." Steve looked surprised and a little bit sad at that. "Besides, there's no reason Gregory couldn't have released Anthony himself whenever he wanted."

Bruce tapped his fingers against the table in contemplation. "Except until this morning he thought Anthony was still dying. SHIELD would have been the safest place for him."

Tony squinted. "What part of attempted murder on both sides do you think screams brotherly affection?"

"Nothing," Bruce said simply, "but I think you can still care for people who drive you to extremes. Don't you?"

His voice was a shade shy of mocking and Tony resisted the urge to glance back at Steve. It had passed no one by that the leaders of both sides of a previous superhero civil war were now sitting side by side. Those past sins were well past their expiration date, at least compared to the ones being perpetrated now.

And Bruce was still pissed at him. Fantastic. Tony grit his teeth and bit his tongue.

"I want to know why your 'good twin'," and everyone could hear Clint's airquotes, "attacked Nat, unprovoked."

Leonard cleared his throat. "I believe I can answer that. In Anthony's universe he served on a team called the Ultimates. A team on which his version of Natasha acted as a mole, betraying them all. He was engaged to her at the time."

Natasha was completely silent. Clint wasn't. "What kinda fucked up universe is that?"

Tony's gaze rested resolutely on his own folded hands. "Ever wonder how scary Reed would be if he decided to channel all that intelligence into global destruction?"

_He's doing it right now, we just haven't told you. And before we're through he'll have done it over and over and over again._

Clint whistled. "That bad, eh?"

"Where is Reed?" Steve asked, "I figured this was more in his wheelhouse than either of yours." He nodded towards Tony and Bruce.

"He's busy." Technically the truth.

"It actually wouldn't help that much," Bruce explained. "Normally we would find the source of the universal breach and send them back the same way but neither brother claims to know how they got here. They're stuck with us for the time being."

 _And we're stuck with them,_ was what Bruce meant to say.

Maria wasn't pleased. "So you're telling me I have to continue holding onto the three unstable technopaths who nearly knocked my command ship out of the sky playing a game of one-upmanship."

"There's only two - oh, right," Hawkeye stopped abruptly, looking at Tony who grimaced.

"We found a solution," Leonard said. "Instead of isolation cages Anthony and Gregory have each been fitted with a personal electromagnetic silencing cuff." He showed surveillance footage of the two prisoners with silver bands covering most of their right forearms. "It cuts off their communication with whatever biotech they've implanted within themselves. Best we could do on such short notice."

"It works?" Steve asked skeptically.

"It worked on a technopathic virus, I've been assured it'll work on a fleet of nanites," Leonard replied.

Tony watched Steve connect the dots: technopathic virus to Extremis to Tony to the cuff.

"When did you wear this, Tony? Wait - _why_ did you wear this?"

He couldn't remember of course and from what he pieced together afterwards he was almost grateful for it. "Apparently my subconscious hijacked Extremis to periodically cause me to hallucinate dead people." He had no proof but he would bet his life that Steve had been one of those ghosts. "I was ordered into that cuff for exactly the reasons you'd suspect."

Natasha put the timeline together first. "You were seeing ghosts while you were Director of SHIELD."

Tony ignored her because a) yes, but it sounded bad when you said it like that and b) it was best not open that particular can of worms, not with so many others open already. He turned his attention to Leonard. "You made modifications since last time I assume?"

"Of course. None of the cuff schematics were on the SHIELD servers as a precaution against- well, you mostly." Tony could acknowledge the prudence of that. "There are deactivation codes in case of emergencies and having the cuff around a forearm instead of an ankle greatly reduces the risk of the subject amputating a limb to get it off."

Steve shot Tony a pointed look from across the table. "Tell me you didn't - "

Tony overrode the question to avoid revealing that the half of his foot that had grown back still itched sometimes. " - so they're both contained at this point. Fantastic. We're back to square one."

Maria gave an almost imperceptible sigh before squaring her shoulders. "Alright. Here's what we're going to do: Cap, Clint, and Widow; you must have better things to do than babysit, get off my ship. Dr. Banner; if I have three Starks onboard I can't deal with the Hulk and I feel like having three Starks onboard greatly increases my chances of having to deal with the Hulk. So please go back to whatever MENSA club all you geniuses must belong to and tell Richards to start returning my calls or I will storm the Baxter Building and leave him to explain to his wife why.

"That leaves Stark and Samson on prisoner duty. Stark: let me clarify my previous instructions - you keep them contained, you keep them far, _far_ away from tech and if they fuck up my ops again I will make your life a living hell." She looked Tony in the eye. "You might not remember how well I can do that, but _I_ do.

"Leonard - Good luck, Leonard."

She rose from her seat at the head of the table. "Meeting adjourned. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

\----------------

Despite Maria's brisk orders everyone filtered slowly out of the conference room. Tony stayed behind pretending to check the figures on his tablet. He didn't want to answer questions, he didn't want unsolicited advice, and appearing to be busy tended to accomplish both. The one time he looked up Bruce caught his eye and motioned towards his watch. They had to contact Reed and T'challa with an update soon. Tony gave a small returning nod as Bruce left.

Barton and Natasha were the last to leave, Clint still chattering away. "-if you had asked me last week how Tony's existential crisis would end I would have bet on an orgy over violence any day. Wait, if they're all sort of the same person does that make it incest or masturbation? I have a terrible feeling Spider-man must know."

"Clint - " a low, warm voice warned.

Surprised, Tony glanced up to see Steve hadn't left either. He was leaning against the east wall, arms folded casually in front of his chest but with the firmly planted posture of a man with infinite patience who will get what he wants in the end. And right now Steve wanted to talk; an activity Tony had been trying to minimize these past few months to soothe the last vestiges of his conscience. He told himself that if he didn't lie directly to Steve then somehow that made the deceit less profound, less personal. Only a terrible man would repeat such a lie to himself and only a sucker would believe it. Tony managed quite adeptly to be both.

"Message received, Mon Capitaine," the archer replied, throwing off a surprisingly smart salute, "and for the record I promise I don't think about threesomes involving Tony that often. And by that often I mean at all- annnnnd I'm leaving now, Nat, stop pulling."

That left just the two of them alone and it suddenly became impossible for Tony to concentrate on anything because Steve was waiting and Tony was always going to break first. Anyone who didn't think Captain America used his tactician's brain in everyday situations had never been manoeuvred into having a conversation with him that they did not want to have.

"What?" Tony snapped, the question pushed out more by dread than anger.

Steve just gazed at him levelly and stayed where he was by the wall. "How's the cut?"

The question threw Tony. Steve made a vague motion and when Tony turned he felt a flare of sharp pain in his left hip at the same time as he saw the faint smear of dark blood he'd left against the chair. He tried not to grimace. "Not bad given I took an unknown energy pulse from less than four feet away."

Steve studied him, blue gaze intent and thoughtful. Tony fought to forget a similar scene a lifetime ago when Steve had stared him down from across a table and had finally seen the awful truth of Tony Stark laid bare. Cap had rejected it outright, denounced it on the spot. He didn't believe in necessary evils and at his core that's all Tony was.

Steve, of course, didn't remember. He still thought of Tony as a hero. As a friend. Tony had stolen the truth from him and now got to bask daily in Captain America's consideration. It was poisoning him, drip by drip. Tony flexed his left hand; part of him begging the Illuminati's alarm to go off and save him from his lies. Even a second denouncement would be better than this continual charade where Steve only cared for Tony because he'd forgotten his contempt for him.

Steve was oblivious to Tony's internal heaving. "You took down two escaped prisoners pretty much single-handedly today. No deaths, no injuries, just a couple scratches. The Helicarrier would have been in real trouble without you."

Tony blinked, having expected pretty much anything other than that. "You stayed behind after class because you wanted to congratulate me on losing control of two clearly shady versions of myself and endangering the life of everyone on this ship." He snorted. "Well I know why you waited for Maria to leave before awarding me that gold star - "

"Of course not," Steve walked closer and sat in one of the chairs kitty-corner to Tony's own. It gave the illusion of space when in fact it effectively blocked the exit, cornering him. "But we established that the Helicarrier was compromised from the beginning. You just handled the fallout."

"So it wasn't my fault? Thanks, Cap. I got it."

Steve just carried on. "...So I'm pretty sure it's not the breach that's bothering you."

Tony straightened immediately. "I promise you I am appropriately terrified that an undead supervillain got into SHIELD systems in under five days. Are you _not_?"

"I'm worried about security," Steve's head tilted, "you're worried about the Starks. I just don't know why."

For an instant Tony thought about denying it but if he couldn't give Steve _the_ truth, he could give him _a_ truth. "You're right. They scare me."

Steve's brow furrowed. "Why? We've dealt with alternate Avengers before. Dimensions where we're all fascists, or zombies, or Lords. What makes these ones any different?"

 _Because they're me. Because I recognize them._ How could a man as Good as Steve Rogers understand that?

"How would you describe Bruce?" Tony asked, agitated. "Not what he looks like but who he is. Humour me."

Steve seemed to truly contemplate the question. This was why Cap was dangerous because who didn't want to be analyzed and found worthy? "He's brilliant. Kind. Someone who avoids direct conflict but brave in ways that have nothing to do with physical strength. He doesn't look down on people who struggle on the inside."

Tony nodded sharply in agreement. "He's also extremely volatile and angry all the way down. He is driven to actual fault. He's spent so much time alone that he actively dislikes working with most other people. He likes keeping people on edge and he could go rogue at any moment."

"You're describing the Hulk," Steve said testily on Bruce's behalf.

"No, I'm not. That's the point." Tony drew a breath. "Bruce and the Hulk are not the same person but if you think they share nothing in common you've never crossed him. Banner will wield his mind and his monster like a sledgehammer and damn the consequences."

Steve frowned. "I noticed you and Banner seemed off but I thought everything was settled between you two."

"We're fine. Or I guess we're _even_ , that's not - " Tony paused and licked his lips. "A big part of why Bruce hates his better half so much is because the Hulk is all his faults unleashed and out of his control." Tony waited for Steve to nod and then exhaled in a rush. "So, Cap, how would you describe me?"

He could see the dawning understanding on Steve's face before resolve took over. "You're a hero. A man who recognized his mistakes and lives everyday to make up for them a thousand times over. You've saved - "

Tony couldn't stand to hear the rest. " - I'm also an alcoholic with a talent for destruction, a tendency toward paranoia, and so in love with my tech I merged it into myself."

Steve looked away and Tony thought it might be in shame but- oh it was even worse than that because Steve didn't remember Tony and the Illuminati wiping his mind but he still remembered that horrible period of civil war that Tony got to forget. Maybe Tony hadn't had to cut him off at all. Steve remembered exactly what type of person he was dealing with and didn't that make Tony's most recent betrayal that much more ungrateful.

"You're a complicated man, Tony. You're a lot of different things, not all of them good," Steve's gaze was steady, "but you're not him."

Tony smiled unkindly. "To which _him_ are you referring? The borderline-insane, broken drunkard or the resurrected villainous megalomaniac? Because they each look at me like I've disappointed them by being more like the other."

Steve's voice was soft. "They're not Hulks. They're not your faults rampaging out of control. They're their own people and you are not responsible for the decisions they've made. They're not you, Tony."

"Except they are." The wound on his hip stung. "I had Hank McCoy compare my DNA to theirs and it goes beyond familial markers. Hank said it was like someone played cut-and-paste with gene sequences across universes. I'm a mosaic amalgamation of them both."

"Or they're just diluted versions of you," Steve said simply and Tony didn't know how Steve couldn't see that as the warning it was. Instead Steve leaned forward; one large hand curving over Tony's shoulder, anchoring. The other skimmed gently down the fabric of the undersuitm every touch amplified by the material and Tony hated it. He was reminded of the things Steve forgot and that he'd never forgive Tony for.

Steve mistook Tony's shudder for pain and he stopped to inspect the wound. "You need to at least bandage this." His fingers came away faintly stained with Tony's blood. "I'll take you to Medical and then we can go to Paulo's for pizza after."

"I can't," Tony said immediately. He needed to get away from Steve. He'd trespassed enough for today. "I'm meeting Bruce at four. Without Reed we need to run our own sims to determine what Ahrlich-Waters frequencies - "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, smart guy stuff." Steve was still smiling. "Rain check?"

"Sure." It slipped out automatically. Too many years of friendship and even a year later Tony hadn't quite adjusted to the truth.

Steve thought he was a hero. Steve was wrong.

\---------------

Tony and Bruce called Reed from an old Stark Resilient warehouse. It wasn't good news. Tony should stop anticipating anything else.

"Something's skewing the probability curve on the Bridge," said the hologram Reed. He was looking more and more like his namesake these days: thin shoulders crumpling inward, bent.

"I'm doing well today too, Reed, thanks for asking." Tony disassembled his helmet. "By the way Maria's hit tipping point with you ignoring SHIELD's calls. She might devote some actual manpower to tracking you if you don't pick up next time."

Holo-Reed's brow furrowed. "I sent them the data."

"Yeah, I saw the file. Only six people in the world could have understood that analysis; one of them's your daughter, one of them's your archenemy, and the rest of us know what you very carefully left out." Tony rubbed his eyes where a headache was making itself known. "Next time Maria calls just show your face and give a two-line summary."

Reed hesitated. He didn't have the talent for casual deception the Illuminati seemed to assume as proof of membership. Reed lied by omission; in heavily edited formulae and missing coefficients. Lying to someone directly was a line he tried hard not to cross.

Tony had passed that arbitrary point of no return long ago. "You need to do this. If you keep sending SHIELD techs math homework eventually one of them is going to actually learn something."

Bruce interjected, quietly apologetic, "It has to be you, Reed."

Richards tapped his pen on the papers in front of him and then nodded.

Tony exhaled. "First crisis solved, onto the second: what's up with the Bridge?"

"The probability field is skewed off normal." Holo-Reed's arm stretched out of view as he grabbed something. "I think it has to do with the extra Starks." The whiteboard revealed Reed's tiny, uneven scrawl and even Bruce and Tony struggled to tell if it was some new breakthrough using symbols they had never seen before or if Reed's already terrible handwriting had just deteriorated with stress.

Holo-Reed started explaining, "This new second-order term represents a line through the probability field. Think of it as a tether between these extra Starks and their native universe. The longer they stay here, the shorter this tether becomes. The bright side is the longer they stay here the easier it will become to identify their native universe and send them back. The downside - "

Bruce finished the thought, having apparently deciphered Reed's hieroglyphics, " - the downside is that the shorter the tether becomes, the greater the chance that the next Incursion is between our two universes."

Holo-Reed nodded solemnly. "The probability approaches certainty."

Bruce paled. "If that happens... "

 _Then we all find out what kind of men we are._ No more freebies, no more accidents, no more barren wastelands. Just a simple question: to kill a world or to not kill a world? Was it better to succeed as monsters or to fail as heroes?

Tony's fingers twitched. "What's our timeline?"

Reed shook off his trance. "We have less than two weeks before the tether shortens enough that a collision becomes a 99% certainty. As soon as we send the Starks back the tether should disengage." His face scrunched. "You need to get them home."

"Whatever energy source punched a tunnel through our universes had to have been powerful, the bridgepoint couldn't have healed over yet," Bruce reasoned. "You'd expect distortions left behind."

Reed shook his head. "T'challa and I haven't found any that match the signature on the two Starks."

Tony flexed his fist. "So to summarize: we have no idea how they got here, _they_ have no idea how they got here, and if we don't get them home soon we're going to have to kill their planet. I heard a similar riddle once about a dead man in a locked room - "

 _"They_ didn't say that," Bruce interrupted, gears turning. _"Anthony_ said he didn't know how they got here, Gregory didn't answer you."

"You think he's hiding something."

"I certainly think he's capable of it," Bruce replied and Tony only imagined the _you certainly are_ tacked on the end. Bruce's logic was sound even if his impression of Tony had evidently sunk to new lows.

"Alright, I'll try again. Leonard expects me back soon anyway."

"You could tell them." Reed's voice rang out with barely concealed hope. "If they knew about the incursions maybe they'd... help," he finished lamely.

Tony answered very carefully. "I think that if we tell them our universes are on a collision course and there's not much anyone can do about it they'll extrapolate to worst case scenarios." Personal loyalty between the two of them seemed a bit precarious but Tony had little doubt as to where their universal loyalty lay. They'd destroy this Earth for the sake of their own. It's what Tony had pledged to do after all. Beside him Bruce reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Reed sighed. "Your call. Just keep an eye on your implant and keep us updated." Then he winked out of existence.

Bruce turned his back to him and Tony was beginning to wonder what exactly about his presence offended Banner so much when Reed was guilty of the same and got sympathy.

"What's the back-up plan?" Bruce asked suddenly.

"For?" Tony prompted, pretending he didn't understand.

"For if we can't get them home."

Tony's stomach roiled. "We haven't discussed it." He had, albeit briefly, with T'challa and Stephen. "Jesus, Bruce, I just learned about this tether at the same time you did. I haven't had time - "

"But you have a plan anyway," Bruce accused lightly, "you're the futurist after all. You must have asked yourself: _I_ _f the other Starks were dead would the tether_ _disengage?"_

Tony didn't blink. "Maybe it would, maybe not. We don't know."

"How long were you planning to wait before you tried?"

That was definitely an accusation and Tony felt his hackles rise. "Well apparently we top out at two weeks," he sniped back. "Anytime before then we can let Namor fulfill his fantasy or you can let the Hulk out to finish what you've been dying to start with me - "

"So you _have_ thought about it," Bruce scoffed. "Of course you - "

"No, Bruce! I really didn't!" Tony exploded. "None of us _planned_ for any of this, don't you get that by now?! We're all just making it up as we go along and we're the guys who are supposed to know everything! I promise you I don't have a murder plot ready to kill my doppelgangers because this wasn't a problem I had two days ago! Just like I didn't go to Wakanda with a plan to - " _Bruce couldn't know about Steve,_ " - _for_ you. So if you could stop punishing _me_ for things _we all_ did - "

"What exactly do you think I'm punishing you for?" Bruce asked, eyes narrowed.

"For telling you the truth. For bringing you into the Illuminati. For making you lie for us."

Bruce's expression soured. "You're wrong."

There was no appeasing a man who had judged already. Tony gave up trying. He shook his head. "I'll be with Leonard until Friday unless..." He made a motion with his left hand, the early warning sensor in his palm silent.

Every moment it didn't glow red seemed like a blessing. And blessings do not last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific warnings for this chapter.
> 
> We get to meet Steve! He will only be a periphery character in this story. I feel like _Iron Man: Director of SHIELD_ is underrated. Tony is a terrible Director but I kind of like that. On a different note, I love Maria Hill a lot for being a female character in authority that writers are okay with making 100% wrong and yet not a villain. 
> 
> Up next: _Three Starks in a room._ [Flesh under Skin - National Velvet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_RdZ1GHOQU)


	6. Dalliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Three Starks in a room._  
>  Music: [Flesh under Skin - National Velvet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_RdZ1GHOQU)  
> Individual chapter warnings are in the endnotes.

The restraining cuff around Anthony's forearm itched. It was all in his head, it only itched because he knew he couldn't scratch it. His nanites were dead weight in his blood stream, silent. Director Not-Fury had explained as much when going over the consequences of screwing with her again. At least the cuff meant that Stark couldn't make him dance like a marionette again. _Provided of course that the cuff stays on,_ the Director had added as a calculated afterthought and Not-Fury might not be the real thing but she'd evidently taken lessons.

They led Anthony to a room that looked more like a repurposed broom closet than a prison cell. Inside was as low-tech as SHIELD thought they could get away with. There was a biometric lock but it was supplemented by the medieval technology of the dreaded deadbolt and key. No one way windows, just a solid steel door. The walls were beige and there were indentations in the carpet from where filing cabinets were recently moved. Mounted in the left corner was an obsolete CCTV camera straight out of _Big Brother_.

"Old school," Anthony remarked. It wasn't the worst idea. The more archaic the imprisonment, the less of an advantage any men with the last name Stark had.

The agents didn't retreat immediately and Anthony realized it was because a second prisoner was being pushed into the small room alongside him. Gregory did not look happy, having returned from what Anthony could only presume was the world's most low-tech infirmary and now sporting a few livid bruises and a matching metallic cuff. Someone had given him his own clothes back so he was resplendent in white, as pale as the Ghost of Christmas Past and about as welcome. He paused just over the threshold to survey the room in disgust, contemptuous of both the downgraded accommodations and his new cellmate.

The agents left and the door shut with an ordinary clang and the distinct _click_ of a lock. They were alone. This world's SHIELD clearly hadn't realized what a risk it was taking locking the two of them in a small room: the chance of catastrophic destruction skyrocketed. And that had been when they were on good terms, relatively speaking. Now Anthony had no idea how to deal with his previously-dead, still-estranged twin in a way that didn't involve strong EMPs or liquor. Gregory, of course, betrayed no such nerves. He was staring at the empty blank wall of the room and Anthony knew it wasn't anything as innocuous as inspection. His brother always preferred to plan in the abstract desert of his own mind. Come to think of it, _planning_ was probably called _plotting_ now for Greg.

He knew how much Anthony detested being ignored, just like he knew how much Anthony hated being beaten and sober and guilty and alone.

"I made sure you got the tackiest gravestone money could buy, you know," Anthony broke the silence crassly. "Twenty-foot high grey marble with a huge gold plaque. I even paid extra for cherubs."

Greg didn't rise to the bait. He didn't even turn around. "Graves comfort the living, not the dead. I'm sure you picked the monument that fit your grief, little brother."

"It was cheap and shallow and more than you deserved." Whenever Anthony had wanted his brother's attention when they were younger he'd piss him off - sometimes just by breathing but grand gestures always did the trick too. "I chose it because I knew you'd hate it and you weren't around to stop me anymore."

Greg finally turned. "You missed me." His voice was rich and rumbling and so very, very alive. "Don't try to deny it."

"Only in fits of madness." Anthony had mourned his brother deeply but Greg was that in name only by the end. They'd shared a womb but it was as if they'd been born with the same heart ripped straight down the middle and neither had ended up with enough love left for the other. "In any case I didn't ever expect to see you again so I may have been a bit more wistful than I should have been. I regret a lot of it. I'm mostly upset your tombstone is obsolete now, it was too fucking perfect."

Greg smiled softly, something sinister underneath. "I heard you, you know," he said mildly, "screaming at Thor to stop."

For a moment all Anthony could see was his brother's outline lit up by a bolt of lightning and he had to look away. "You came to North Korea to kill me."

"Among other things, though I did promise Nicholas just that." Distaste flooded Greg's voice. "Instead you killed me." Anthony's jaw clenched but Greg just flicked his wrist in dismissal. "And now I'm back."

"By my count our murder attempts cancel out, that makes us even. Let's keep it that way." Anthony's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How did you accomplish that miracle, anyway? Not like you had a soul to sell."

"I guess someone just liked me."

"So whoever it was was a gullible idiot."

Greg shrugged noncommittally.

Anthony felt the familiar frustration rise. " _Why_ are you back?"

His brother's eyes had never looked so blue or so alien. "I haven't the slightest clue though if I were the terrible man you insist I am, I'd say it was so I could watch you die instead."

Was there nothing their rivalry hadn't tainted? "You that much of a sadist or just sore you had to find out about the brain cancer along with everyone else?"

"It was an impressive secret given how many Stark Industries employees I had on payroll. At the very least I thought the active chemotherapy might've kept you from your vanity project."

Anthony snorted. "You expected me to sit on the sidelines while you tore up the Ultimates and the Avengers on your descent into madness?"

"Ascent, Brother Dearest, ascent."

"Well if it's my death you're anticipating you'll be waiting awhile, I'm not dying anymore." As he said it Anthony felt some knot inside himself loosen. Speaking the words aloud had made it real. Greg didn't look shocked, just contemplative, and if Anthony had been on an evener keel he'd have found that suspicious. As it was the rest came tumbling out of his mouth like they were still kids, before they tore themselves apart. "The tumour's stopped growing. It's not even in remission; it's like there were never cancerous cells at all."

Banner had shown him the brain scans; the spider's nest of inert tissue snaking its tendrils through his grey matter the only evidence it had been there at all. "I'm cured." Anthony gave a hollow smile at the grief he felt at that. "Sorry to disappoint. You want me dead cancer won't do your dirty work for you."

No more brain cancer, no more alcoholism, no more treasonous guilt in his stomach at the mention of Greg. After years of his own universe piling shit on him, this universe had decided to take the opposite approach and give him everything he ever wanted. Everything he'd _thought_ he'd wanted.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by a touch at the nape of his neck. Gregory must have crossed the room when he wasn't looking. Fingers traced up the soft path from the base of his skull to the spot Anthony caressed frequently in the dead of night when he could deny it in the morning. The spot where the cancer had tunnelled deep into his brain. It didn't surprise him that Greg knew exactly where it was. It was somehow fitting that he should; the two banes of Anthony's life sharing communion.

Greg's fingertip danced on the back of his skull like the barrel of Natasha's gun. "I never wanted it to kill you."

That wasn't quite what Anthony had accused him of and they both knew it.

Anthony found himself starting to hyperventilate having forgotten the overwhelming nature of emotions undeadened by drink. He had lived the last eight years as a dead man walking; revelling in the hedonistic pursuits of flesh and pharmaceuticals but nothing compared to the terrible burden of being alive. He ducked his head, choking on his own breath, water tension the only thing keeping tears from spilling out. "I'm not dying and you're not dead," he mumbled to himself, dazed.

Greg arched an eyebrow. "Is that so horrible?"

Anthony choked on a laugh because what kind of god would grant miracles like this? Only the type atheists feared most: an arbitrary and all-powerful one. Dealing out second lives like a distracted golfer taking mulligans.

Greg was not amused. Ice blue eyes bored into Anthony, pitiless in their judgment. "You'd have preferred to die."

"No, I hated dying. Spent a lot of my time avoiding it. Well apart from that thing with the..." Anthony made a hand motion knowing Greg would remember. He'd been around for Anthony's botched attempt the year after Mother's death; the first of the many sins Gregory forever counted against him. Anthony was never sure if it was the incompetence or naked desperation of the failed act that disgusted his brother more.

"But you would have been fine with death," Greg accused.

Anthony shrugged. "Well, to death's credit it apparently found you so distasteful it spit you back."

Gregory's look of utter contempt was little more than a sneer. He moved before Anthony could blink and the resounding _SMACK_ of knuckles hitting flesh sent Anthony reeling to the floor. It was surprise more than anything that kept him there. Impulsive violence wasn't his brother's usual modus operendi - too human, too messy - but a moment later Anthony felt the threatening pressure of the heel of a boot against his windpipe.

"Death was the worst thing I ever experienced," Greg spit venomously as Anthony struggled to stay still beneath him. "Worse than betrayal, worse than failure. If you don't want to live, I won't make you." The pressure on Anthony's trachea ratcheted incrementally higher.

All of a sudden Greg's gaze snapped over Anthony's left shoulder. The old CCTV camera was no longer blinking its insouciant red light.

"Stark," Greg breathed, almost pleased, and a moment later the twins heard the tinkling of metal as a key was inserted into a lock.

Gregory was rarely wrong, it was one of the things that made him unbearable.

Iron Man entered, firing a warning shot wide. "Back off, Dye-Job."

Greg released his foot and sauntered off to the other corner, like the two of them had merely been caught roughhousing by the maid. Anthony just slowly pulled himself up. The Iron Man armour retreated, leaving the man behind. Stark was wearing what Anthony had come to expect from him; the black undersuit with the blue highlights. He stayed guarding the door as if either of them would bother trying to overpower a man with iron living under his skin.

The room felt suffocatingly small with the three of them standing at odds.

Stark eyed them both with something dark in his eyes. "What exactly was that?"

Greg was silent and so was Anthony as he massaged his throat.

"It's a twin thing," Anthony finally said once he could trust his voice not to squeak.

"You wouldn't understand," Greg added coldly.

They were united enough and Stark pursed his lips at the rebuff. "How's the new jewellery?"

"Exquisite," Anthony's fingers flexed around his cuff, "but you should know I don't put out until the third date."

"I'm sure Leonard will be disappointed," Stark replied dryly. "His idea."

Greg pointed out the obvious. "You know it won't stop us."

"I know," Stark said roughly. "Which is why I'm getting the two of you back home."

"And how are you planning to do that?" Anthony asked.

"No idea. I was hoping you could tell me."

"I already told you - "

"He wasn't asking _you_ ," Greg interrupted, eyes locked with Stark's like a mongoose and a cobra sizing each other up. He tilted his head to the side. "Is that why you turned off your little Eye in the Sky? Interrogation? It didn't end so well for you last time."

Stark folded himself casually against the door. "As much as Maria might have loved to sell tickets to Stark vs Stark, there are things I'd rather keep off SHIELD's radar. I assume you're paranoid enough to feel the same."

Greg paused and then smirked. "You've made a mistake."

"I've made plenty. I'll live."

Greg ignored him. "You assume I want to go home."

Stark froze unnaturally and his voice took on an edge. "You have to."

"I don't, and I can keep what I know to myself," Greg replied shortly, mouth twisting, and suddenly with a childhood of experience Anthony saw the whole trick. He knew what Greg had been looking for on SHIELD's servers.

"He doesn't know," Anthony murmured, turning to the man by the door. "You won't get anything out of him because he can't tell you. He was trawling through SHIELD's systems looking for the same answers you are."

Greg shot him a poisonous look, confirming Anthony's suspicions. It was such a childish move that Anthony couldn't help rolling his eyes. "Oh come off it, Greg. The words _I don't know_ won't kill you."

Stark didn't seem relieved in the slightest. He sagged against the door. "Fantastic."

Greg's nose crinkled at being caught out. "I assume you have a back-up plan, such as you're capable of making."

Stark's laugh was dark and something was wrong. "Not one you'll like."

"Have you asked Reed?" Anthony asked innocently. Stark's head snapped up at the same time as Greg's snapped towards Anthony. "You two are friends here, aren't you?"

Stark nodded slowly as if he knew to tread carefully. "Yes I have, and we are. He's not evil here if that's what you're thinking."

Anthony gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Neither was ours, for awhile."

There were plenty of reasons to hide your association with budding supervillains but if what Stark claimed was true than there was no reason for him and Richards to be hiding signals from SHIELD. Gregory was openly staring at Stark now with narrowed eyes but stayed silent.

Stark broke first. "I'm not evil either, you know."

Anthony didn't bother answering. Greg did instead. "Don't worry yourself Stark, there's still time." There was a glimmer of teeth. "Of the two of us you were always the late bloomer."

Stark was shaking his head and Anthony didn't know what had been the last straw but he knew Stark was about to flee so Anthony did what none of them had been brave enough to do so far: he broke the standoff. He took two steps towards where Stark was positioned by the door.

"Stop," Stark ordered. Anthony didn't even bother slowing down.

"Don't tell me you're surprised by how poorly we take orders," Greg scoffed from the opposite corner.

"I said - "

"Oh, I heard," and Anthony couldn't keep the bite out of his voice, "bit harder to enforce when you don't have remote control over my nanites, isn't it?"

"I didn't want to have to do that," Stark said, unable or unwilling to make eye contact.

"And yet you did it anyway."

"Yeah." Stark grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest. "I do that."

Anthony accepted that that was as close to an apology as he was going to get. Starks were not known for their generous use of sorry.

"Don't get contrite now Stark, it's the only thing you've done I even slightly admire you for." Greg's eyes gleamed with amusement. "I've never bothered but total muscular control seems like it could be a lot of fun. It'd certainly make dealing with my brother less of a chore."

"Not everyone has your weird kinks, Greg," Anthony volleyed back as he took advantage of their mutual diversion to move closer to Stark

It did not go unnoticed. Stark extended his right arm, palm out, and Anthony was mesmerized by the Iron Man gauntlet forming around it. He couldn't have cared less that it was pointed at him.

 _"Stop,"_ Stark said again, resolute now, the whine of the repulsor backing him up.

There was still four feet between them and Anthony's smile was dangerous. "I don't know who you think I am that a piece of gorgeous tech is going to keep me away." He stalked forward another two paces, the circle of the repulsor now flush with his chest, with his heart. His pulse sped up, the danger adding to his courage rather than diminishing it. Through whatever malfunctioning bond they shared he felt rather than saw Gregory tense at the vulnerability of his position.

Anthony looked down at where the repulsor made contact before slowly extending his own hand towards the glowing blue circle at the centre of Stark's chest. Right before his fingers made contact Stark dropped his gauntleted hand and canted his torso to avoid the touch. _Interesting_ , Anthony thought, though he didn't know if he was more disappointed by the tech or the body being pulled out of reach. Undeterred, Anthony snuck forward another handful of inches into the undefended space, careful not to block the man's sightline to Greg who Stark - wrongly - thought was the threat here.

Up close his double was hardly the picture of calm he wanted to project. His lips were chapped, his undereyes bruised and hastily concealed. His right gauntleted hand was pressed into the palm of his left in a nervous tic. A man falling apart held together by magnetism and caffeine.

"Like what you see?" Greg asked suggestively from somewhere behind.

"Always," Anthony answered automatically.

Stark's blue eyes flicked to Anthony. "Bit narcissistic, even for me."

Anthony snorted. "Like that'd stop you. Us. Though maybe -" and his voice dropped another half register as he turned towards Greg, "you prefer blonds. Don't deny it, I saw you looking at Rogers like you'd lick his boots and then ask for more." Stark said nothing which was as good as an admission. "My Captain was always too much of a boy scout for me but then again I always went for the opposite."

"Thanks for the advice but given you were set on marrying a woman who called herself the Black Widow your taste in sexual partners may leave something to be desired," commented Stark, gaze still lingering on Greg.

"Oh _Darling_ , the sex was the only redeemable part of that whole mess," Anthony said and then took advantage of Stark's inattention to kiss him.

It was at once fast and slow. Anthony pulled them flush quickly: hip to hip, heart to heart. Stark clearly wasn't expecting the touch; jolting both towards and away from him in equal measure, pupils wide as saucers. He didn't cry out or shoot anyone, which to be honest Anthony probably should have thought about beforehand. Stark's gauntlet was wrapped around Anthony's elbow preventing him from moving either towards and away. Their breath mingled, lips exactly the same height. The next part was slow. Stark's pupils were blown, the black centres swallowing everything until only the slightest rim of the blue irises showed. Anthony saw _fight or flight_ warring in them but he also saw fear. He recognized the raw desperation in their depths: that clawing need to distract oneself from the inevitable, to feel something - _anything_ \- on the way out the door. He'd seen it in the mirror every morning for eight years.

He wondered what it was that Stark was dying of.

Anthony kissed him slowly. A press of lips as he leaned in before graduating a moment later to PG-13 when Stark accepted the silent offer. It was the only help Anthony knew how to give because it was the only offer he would have accepted when it was him on that slow, inexorable march to death.

"Why?" Stark croaked when they parted, suspicious but desperate.

Anthony shrugged, like he hadn't seen what laid beneath. "You're lonely."

"You're not." Stark nodded at Greg who had stopped pretending he was uninterested in the proceedings.

They were twins. Even when they were together, they were alone. "I'm not dying. He's not dead."

Stark gave a heartbreaking little laugh at that and Anthony took it as acquiescence. He kissed him again, more forcefully this time, and Stark seemed content to follow his lead for the moment. He was careful to avoid Stark's tech and his chest - those seemed to be off limits - but his hands wandered otherwise. Stark was more muscled than either himself or Greg but you'd need to get fairly up close and personal to tell. His facial hair was more neatly trimmed and his hair seemed the slightest bit lighter though that may have been because he spent more time in the sun. His eyes were the same colour as Greg's and Anthony had never known that shade of blue could be so warm.

Finally he felt the presence of a warm body behind him which meant his brother's legendary patience had run out. Stark's metal fingers digging into Anthony's arm meant he'd noticed the new presence as well and was on edge.

"If this is your idea of Plan B, Stark, I have no idea how you're going to get us home," Greg said mildly as he leaned against the wall just out of arm's reach. He gaze was fixated none too discreetly on the circular glow at the centre of Stark's undersuit.

Anthony was close enough to hear Stark's teeth grind and since the man was still armed Anthony decided a shift in strategy was required. He kissed Stark soundly as a distraction and then turned towards his brother. "Are you waiting for an invitation? Seems unlike you."

Stark blinked and Greg scowled. His brother only played at the aesthete with his pristine suits and polite contempt. Years of corporate espionage had given Anthony fairly damning evidence that Greg was as human as the rest of them. That included a robust if discreet sex life that Anthony only found tame in comparison to his own.

"I'd be careful about what you think you know about me," Greg retorted and Anthony just smiled. Stark was looking at Greg with a calculating expression and as much as Stark differed from Anthony there was still too much of the man who bedded the Black Widow in him to not lust after dangerous things.

Greg's formal invitation was Stark's gauntleted hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him into a rough kiss. Light and dark heads bent together, teeth and tongues battling for dominance. Anthony tried to quash his jealousy at having Stark's attention diverted - his sibling rivalry with Greg subdued but not, alas, forgotten. His eyes were drawn to his brother's nape where Stark's mechanized fingers had already begun to leave bruises behind on pale skin. Greg's hands roamed slowly up and down, cataloging the body across from him before suddenly used his leverage to throw Stark hard into the reinforced door.

Stark broke the kiss with a hiss of pain. "Shit," he cursed, doubling over, repulsor immediately coming up in automatic response. All things considered they were probably lucky no one got shot.

Greg backed off, the slight smile on his face confirming it hadn't been an accident. Anthony glared and Greg just rolled his eyes. "If you're concerned, help him yourself." He nudged Anthony none too gently towards where Stark was still hunched over, gauntlet receding.

Anthony braced one arm around Stark's torso, standing them up. His left hand came away stained with blood. It was leaking through the undersuit. Greg must have ripped some of Stark's stitches on purpose, probably from the very wound he gave Stark yesterday. His brother could be notoriously petty. Why choose something mutually enjoyable when you could _win?_

Anthony shouldered more of Stark's weight. "You're hurt."

Stark grunted. "I know. I was there. Your brother's an asshole."

"He knows how to ruin a mood," agreed Anthony. Greg was once again staring at the blank wall, seemingly oblivious to his fellows, and Anthony took his opportunity, lowering his voice. "Listen Stark, there's clearly something - "

He never finished. Stark's eyes suddenly flew open and his face lost all colour. He scrambled to push Anthony away, his open left palm now glowing an unnatural scarlet. Caught, literally red-handed, with the Maker's tech. The alert or implant or whatever it was projected a simple holographic clock in blocky alarmist crimson.

_7:59:57_   
_7:59:56_   
_7:59:55_

A countdown. _To what?_

Before Anthony could get any answers the door was already closing, steel locking automatically behind.

\----------------

"What was that?" Anthony asked as the locks re-engaged.

"Secrets," Greg answered succinctly from behind him. He looked as unaffected as he did when all this began, his white suit somehow having made it through unmarred. Anthony meanwhile was sporting a bruise from Greg's fist across his jaw and Stark's tacky, drying blood on his hand. It wasn't fair.

"Surveillance is still down," Greg continued and indeed when Anthony glanced up the CCTV camera stared back with dead eyes. "Stark didn't stick around to turn it back on."

Anthony tried to make his voice as dispassionate as his brother's. "Pity. I always thought someone would have paid good money to see us put on that show."

Gregory's lip curled in distaste.

"Right," Anthony scoffed, "Dr. Stark doesn't have sex tapes and heaven forbid commercialism get dragged into it."

Greg was wearing that superior look on his face that meant he thought Anthony was throwing a tantrum and had elected to wait it out. Anthony just sat in sullen silence to spoil his fun.

"Are you quite finished?" Greg asked patronizingly. There were actual reasons they didn't get along and his older brother's habit of condescending to him was chief among them.

Anthony swept his arm out theatrically. "I concede the floor to the Gentleman from New York."

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic."

_"Pot, kettle, ladle, sponge."_

Greg just shot him an irritated look. "You can do whatever you want, I'm leaving."

 _"Bullshit_ ," Anthony snapped. "The biometric lock's re-engaged and while there are similarities, neither of us is a DNA match for Stark. Barring that the door's bolted shut and you don't have the key. And if you somehow managed to bypass both locks there are at least a hundred SHIELD agents on the other side of that door who would shoot you on sight." Greg looked thoroughly unimpressed and Anthony instinctively dug into his position. "What's your plan? Battering ram? Wishing on shooting star?"

"I am capable of elegant solutions," Greg replied, unconcerned.

"Your elegant solutions tend to leave people dead."

Greg just smirked and it never looked mischievous on him, it always looked sinister. He walked over to Anthony who wasn't stupid enough to concede any ground. His hand came up to Anthony's face and Anthony braced for pain but all Greg did was swipe his thumb gently over the bruise on Anthony's jaw. The gesture was so casual and unusual that Anthony fought the twin impulses to wrench away or fight back.

"Admiring your handiwork?" Anthony asked coolly.

"He was hardly going to come rushing in to rescue _me_."

 _Oh_. Anthony grit his teeth as Gregory's latest trick unravelled in his mind. "Your newfound temper was just a feint to get Stark in here." _I am capable of elegant solutions_ , indeed. 

Greg didn't even bother turning around. "It was nice of him to turn off the cameras as well. I was expecting we'd have to kill him but luckily enough he rushed out without checking."

Anthony squinted. "Checking?"

Greg opened his left hand, revealing a bit of flat silver. "If he still had the key."

That's why Greg had gotten close. He'd concealed a petty crime with a kiss and a violent shove. Stark should probably have suspected someone was up but Anthony should have _known_. This was all Greg was anymore: wheels within wheels to get what he wanted.

"Glad to have played my part of honey trap so effectively," Anthony muttered, the words tasting sour.

"Don't be petulant, Anthony," Greg admonished. "Think of it this way: you saved his life." From underneath his metallic cuff he produced a scalpel, pilfered no doubt, from whatever SHIELD nursing station they'd taken him to beforehand. Greg simply dropped the intended murder weapon in Anthony's lap and moved towards the door. Over his shoulder Anthony could hear the click of the key being inserted into the lock and then a pause.

Anthony stared at the ceiling. "You haven't figured out a way past the DNA lock have you?" There was silence. "Pity. If you actually _had_ Stark's corpse all you'd need was his finger or a bit of - " Anthony stopped short, head swimming as he stared down at the red stain on his left hand.

Stark's blood was still sticky on his fingers.

Greg was lingering patiently by the door like a teacher waiting for the slow kid to catch up. "Hurry up, little brother. Surveillance won't be down forever," he ordered breezily because of course Greg still expected Anthony's help. Not because he thought them equals but because he was playing beat-the-clock with the downed surveillance system and Anthony was another pair of hands; worth nothing beyond his use as a tool for his brother's gain.

The trick with Greg was to expect nothing and then never be disappointed. Anthony had never quite mastered it. There was nothing he could do about the stab of anger spiking through him. He could already hear Gregory's sneering voice methodically disassembling his preconceptions about what their relationship actually was. Screw reconciliation. Screw second chances. It wasn't like Anthony hadn't been given plenty of warnings.

"You used me." The words stuck at the back of his throat and they came out flattened and dangerous. Dangerous enough that his brother stopped what he was doing and turned towards him. Without conscious thought Anthony found himself on his feet, holding the scalpel.

Greg contemplated the sharp instrument for a moment before he tilted his chin up in defiance, challenge lighting his eyes from the inside. "Yes, and I'd do it again."

He and Greg were of nearly identical builds which generally left them evenly matched without tech. Except Anthony was _fucking pissed_. He grabbed Greg by the lapels and slammed him into the wall, the tip of the scalpel grazing the skin above his brother's carotid.

"What makes you think," Anthony hissed, "that after everything you've done; after North Korea, after Nick, after Peter, that I would help unleash you on the world?" The surprise in his older brother's eyes was almost comical. "Do you even have the slightest idea of what you did back home, Greg? Or did you just work out the hypothetical on paper and then jump to execution without stopping to check if it was _insane_." A small bead of blood welled up under the blade of the scalpel and Anthony's voice dropped to a rasp. "Why would I risk you doing to this Earth what you did to ours?"

Greg cocked his head in confusion and Anthony was reminded of when they were young and there were still things his brother would admit he didn't understand. "Because your double is keeping something from us."

Anthony's laugh was short and cruel. _"My_ double? Why mine? Because we share a first name and a haircolour? He's also a manipulative prick which he must pull from your side of the womb. You're just too arrogant to realize he's _you_ with better dress sense."

Gregory's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, Anthony had threatened his pride. "He's lying - "

"You're lying!" Anthony yelled, scalpel skating dangerously close to incision. "Don't think I haven't noticed. You'll have to do better than that."

" _He's scared_ ," Greg said hoarsely and that made Anthony pause. "You saw it." Anthony remembered wide blue eyes begging for distraction and Gregory pressed his point. "Stark was desperate and lying and _scared_."

Gregory was rarely wrong. It made him unbearable.

His brother's eyes were feverish in their intensity. "Think of the things that frighten you - that frighten _us_ \- and tell me your cowardice would let you stay here and play prisoner."

"It's not cowardice," objected Anthony. In a way it would have been easier if it was. _"You_ scare me. I don't even think you're capable of fear anymore." Anthony felt sick. "The only one of Father's lessons you took to heart had to be _Never let them see you scared_ , except you upped and forgot how to feel it as well. That's why you win because I can't - "

" - of course there are things that scare me," Greg interrupted and Anthony tried to resist believing.

The fight left him anyway and Anthony felt weakness return to his limbs. His arms shook where they were braced and he stepped back. Greg didn't follow him. Anthony tipped the back of his head against the wall. Gregory was hiding something, but so was Stark. _Who to trust: The Man in White or The Man in Black? A man with no fear or a man consumed by it? The Devil you know or the Devil you don't?_

Greg was silent but his hand was already outstretched. He knew who Anthony would pick. There was never any doubt.

Anthony tucked the scalpel away. "I want to know what kind of alert had Stark running out of the room like the world was ending." He didn't want to see the flare of triumph in Greg's eyes so instead he settled for placing his stained hand on the biometric lock and was rewarded with a dull click. He wiped the rest of the blood onto his brother's white suit as a last act of retribution.

On the other side of the door was small empty office. The good thing about hastily converted prison cells was that they tended to be accompanied by equally thrown-together guardhouses. The room had the same shabby aesthetic and hastily piled furnishings. There was a single chair staring at a currently blank monitor. CCTV was still down for now. Toward the back was a metal door leading to the Helicarrier at large.

"What was your plan for getting off the ship?" Anthony asked.

"Why would I want to leave the ship?"

"Because Stark's not here." Greg raised an eyebrow and Anthony shrugged. "That red tech in his hand belongs to Richards, not SHIELD. If that's an emergency summons he's flown the coop by now."

"How do you know that?"

Anthony smirked. "I work in mysterious ways."

Greg huffed. "Well then how are _you_ going to get us off this ship?"

Anthony stopped rifling through the locker when he found what he was looking for: a black SHIELD uniform and a pair of sunglasses. He smiled.

"I have an idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ Minor Anthony/Tony and Tony/Gregory. No incest and nothing goes beyond a graphic kiss. It turns out to be surprisingly plot relevant. Comic levels of blood/violence.
> 
> This is the chapter that needed the largest overhaul. Oh well.
> 
> Up next: _These violet skies have violent ends._ [Violet - Hole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cH_rfGBwamc)


	7. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _These violet skies have violent ends._  
>  Music: [Violet - Hole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cH_rfGBwamc)  
> Individual chapter warnings are listed in the endnotes.

From the moment the Illuminati implant in his palm began pulsing its warning red light Tony could think of nothing else. It dwarfed everything: his fears about the doppelganger twins, Bruce's constant digs - even Steve, hanging above him like the sword of Damocles seemed to pale in comparison. Universal survival took precedence, _living_ took precedence, but it came with a steep price tag. Reparations, penance, justice (should there be such a thing) could be doled out later. There was work to do. An incursion event had begun. Let the countdown begin: eight hours until the death of a world or the end of the universe.

 _Please let this not be the end, not of the world and not of myself_ , thought Tony as he wound his way through the Helicarrier, fist clenched to smother the Illuminati's warning. He made his excuses in the armour and behind the helmet so that Leonard wouldn't see how pale he was.

In the Mark LVI armour it took about an hour to reach the Incursion site: the journey at once taking too long and not nearly long enough. Iron Man's boots touched down on the orange plains of the Australian outback and kicked up dust. One by one the rest of the Illuminati arrived after having made their own excuses. Reed, Bruce, Namor. Black Bolt, Hank. T'challa and Stephen were last, the familiar silhouette of an anti-matter bomb materializing with them: the explosive device of last resort should they fail to rescue the two Earths by other means.

They failed quite often these days.

"Let's go," T'challa ordered and not even Namor argued.

The naked eye could have mistaken the shimmer up ahead for a heat mirage and not the thin, overlapping veil between universes. They walked through the translucent boundary and suddenly a blue ghost-like orb dominated the purpling horizon, hanging lower in the sky than the physics of gravity should ever have allowed. The second Earth. Two worlds drifting closer and closer together until their meeting would destroy both universes. The scale of it was a wonder to behold. Awesome in its approaching catastrophe.

Tony checked his palm, _Touchdown in T-minus 6:15:36_. The suit hid his shiver as he looked at the deceptively peaceful blue sphere. "Do we know if it's theirs?" Theirs meant belonging to the other Starks. Theirs meant populated. Theirs meant alive.

Reed shook his head, wide eyes glued to the world above them. "There are too many variables, too many permutations to solve. The math won't - I don't know. We won't know until we get there."

Seeing that helpless look on the face of the smartest man alive had become a terrifying reoccurrence, matched as it was by the expressions of the men around him.

 _"Once more unto the breach, dear friends,"_ quoted McCoy without jest as they launched themselves across the chasm separating the worlds. No gods existed to answer their prayers. They would be saved or damned by themselves alone.

Tony was spared the test. He never made it to the other side. He was flying across the nether space between Earths trailing Black Bolt and Stephen when the last crackle of terrestrial radio signal reached him. It was Leonard, his message broken up by the ionic interference. Tony moved to flick off the channel but stopped as his brain finally manged to arrange the doctor's urgent words in the correct order.

_Tony?! They escaped! We don't know where they are._

_Goddammit, answer me! They've gone looking for_ **_you_** _._

Tony flipped one-hundred and eighty degrees and headed back towards home, a stone settling in the pit of his stomach.

\-------------------

He alighted back on the Helicarrier to the frenzied energy of a small nation gearing up for war. Before his jets cooled a roar came from across the flight deck.

"Where the hell have you been, Stark?!"

Tony whipped his head around to find Maria rushing towards him, armed SHIELD agents trailing behind her. "Loaded question," he muttered as he took in the general chaos of SHIELD pilots assembling on deck. "What happened?"

Maria shot him a glare. "I just decided to run emergency drills in the rain because I'm an asshole - Your prisoners escaped is what happened!"

"How?" Tony asked, mouth dry.

Maria was fuming. "I should be asking you that."

The sinking feeling in Tony's stomach intensified. His gut knew this was bad even if his mind hadn't quite figured out how bad yet. "They were wearing their restraining cuffs."

" _They're._ _still_. _you_." With each word she drove a finger into his chest despite the fact the Iron Man suit emphasized their height difference and was armed to the teeth. SHIELD didn't give out Helicarriers to people who let such things stop them. "Cutting them off from their tech was clearly not enough." Her tone made it clear that separating their heads from their shoulders might have done it.

" _Maria_ ," Tony ordered sharply and for a moment she snapped to attention before remembering that he had no power over her. "Please," he added weakly.

She seemed to physically tamp down her anger. "There was a malfunction in the surveillance system. By the time we noticed and sent someone down they were already gone," she exhaled, "long gone actually. They managed to bypass the biometric lock and unlock the door without a key."

SHIELD security had DNA matching. It could still tell Tony and his doppelgangers apart at a molecular level so that meant- The reopened wound on Tony's side twinged. God, he was a fucking idiot. He'd be willing to bet his secret duplicated key was missing too. "But you posted guards."

Maria's hands clenched around the railing. "I did. They had orders to shoot on sight before Evil Twin decided to knock us out of the sky again. They didn't," she continued, anticipating Tony's next question, "because no one wanted to shoot _you._ "

She handed him a tablet. Onscreen was Helicarrier security footage of Gregory in handcuffs being marched through the halls. Behind him was a man with Tony's haircolour and build, with a bruise across his jaw. His SHIELD uniform concealed the restraining cuff on his forearm and the sunglasses distorted the colour of his eyes.

Maria continued, "They're both intimately acquainted with the Helicarrier of their world. They knew where to go."

The footage followed the Starks through the maze of hallways. Sometimes Fake-Tony's lips would move onscreen and the agent in the vicinity would nod back, fooled. Leonard appeared and Tony saw the slightest ripple of nervousness cross his double's face before it broke out into the tired, fake smile Tony saw staring back at him from the mirror everyday. Nothing in their short conversation must have rang any alarms because they parted at the entrance to the blacktop and then his double stopped, turning back to ask something. Leonard handed over his tablet without a second thought and the twins continued out of frame.

Maria was not impressed. "Apparently you wanted to check your schedule and asked Leonard to borrow his tablet. It's encrypted so hopefully given the restraining cuffs we've bought ourselves a day and a half to Stark-proof our higher level systems."

Less than that but there was a non-zero chance the world was ending in less than four hours so Tony decided to let it slide. "No one questioned why I was giving a supervillain the Grand Tour of SHIELD's flagship?"

 _"Everyone_ questioned it. It took them thirty-five minutes to get from Deck 8 to the blacktop. They were stopped by five agents, two techs, and Leonard. Your Not-so-Evil Twin passed with flying colours which says a lot more about their abysmal observation skills than his acting." Tony raised an eyebrow and Maria stared back coolly. "He's at least fifteen pounds lighter than you, has shorter hair, his eyes are a different colour, and you never wore your SHIELD blacks open like that because you said it'd interfere with your armour."

Tony didn't know what to say. Maria just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Then to top if off Fake-you and Blond-you stole a Blackbird from the deck so now I have the X-men up my ass."

"Blackbird's a good choice," Tony rationalized, trying to avoid thinking of the part he'd played, "Quinjets are designed for speed, Blackbirds for stealth. They're also completely untraceable to SHIELD."

"God bless the X-Men for thinking of everything," Maria muttered sarcastically. "So far I've got the Avengers combing Arlington, SHIELD looking in New York, and Richards isn't answering my calls _again_."

Reed Richards was likely to be incommunicado for the foreseeable future - as little of it as there may be.

Her eyes narrowed at Tony. "And now you're standing on my ship fidgeting like my missing supervillain problem is somehow keeping you from something more important."

 _It's all the same problem._ Tony could see just how out of control the situation had become and it went beyond a stolen tablet and a jailbreak. The Starks had had seen the Illuminati alarm, they'd seen the countdown. They had an untraceable jet and Tony's personal schedule. They had an encrypted SHIELD tablet which may or may not help them but certainly wouldn't remain encrypted for long. Worse still they were united which meant they had found something bigger than each other to fight.

"We don't know what they're going to do next." Maria turned to him. "So, what would _you_ do, Tony?"

"I don't know," he lied. But he knew where they'd end up, however they figured it out. All roads led to one place. The Starks would find their answers in the Necropolis. They would also find a hundred planet-killing bombs buried in the crypt and a single burning question: _Would you kill a world save your universe?_

 _5:04:54_  
_5:04:53_  
_5:04:52_  
  
_What would_ **_you_ ** _do, Tony?_

\----------------

What happened next was a blur. Tony could vaguely hear himself go through the required motions: lie to Maria, check in with Steve, lie some more. _Yes, I promise to stay on the Helicarrier. Yes, I'll join the Avengers in their search in DC. No, Leonard, no need to babysit me._ Leonard had trusted him ( _amateur,_ his mind sneered, _shouldn't he of all people know better_ ) and Tony had smiled, already planning on breaking his promise five minutes later. People who thought the best of him these days were instead rewarded by a ruthless campaign of bridge-burning only Tony was party to.

There were no more Blackbirds so he stole a Quinjet. It was a mistake. The jet was faster than the suit but SHIELD would be able to track it given time. Tony grimaced. Another concession, another postponement, another shoe waiting to drop. Reed and Bruce were still out of reach. The Illuminati still had a dirty job to do and the anxiety Tony felt at their absence mingled with the gratefulness of no longer having to share in it. If they chose to kill a planet Tony wouldn't be there. He was heading straight into his own potential death trap without back-up, without saying goodbye, without confession; his last act to lie to the people who helped him when he was lowest. He still got the better deal.

The flight to Wakanda was silent except for the relentless ticking down of the clock in Tony's head. ... _2:36:09, 2:36:08, 2:36:07..._

The Necropolis stood starkly against the flat desert of the badlands. It would have been reduced to a tourist trap in any other country but while the Black Panthers had use for tradition they had no use for sentimentality. Wakandan technology was folded into the baked brick, T'challa's security second to none. From the Quinjet window Tony saw a smoking crater on the east side of the building - a precision strike where someone had used aerial weapons to take out the defence generator. No one should have been able to get close enough to take that shot except among the few who could approach the City of the Dead without alert were the Illuminati; among them Hank McCoy of the X-Men. Hank McCoy who always flew a Blackbird.

Tony was already too late. The stolen stealth plane in question lay abandoned on the yellowed tarmac and Tony touched down the Quinjet across from it. The Iron Man armour unfolded around him as he stepped out into the sun. The Necropolis was as silent as the graves it was built upon. There were no birds, all souls had long since fled. The natural magic of the place interfered with the suit's sensors as Tony made his way to entrance to find the large inlaid door already slightly ajar. An invitation. He was expected.

Tony slipped inside with the trepidation of a guilty man entering a courthouse. The building was quiet except for the 60Hz hum of the electrical grid that meant at least some of T'challa's extra precautions were still up and running. Even if the gates themselves were crashed, the walls still held their secrets. For how much longer, Tony didn't dare guess. He stalked the empty corridors, HUD glitching with static through the heavy magical wards, drawing closer and closer to the large room where the Illuminati held their meetings.

 _"Olly, olly, oxen-free,"_ Tony mumbled under his breath, repulsors levelled.

"You know," a voice started and Tony whirled to see Anthony sitting at the head of the long, stone table, "if you're trying to convince people you aren't keeping secrets, you shouldn't let them trace you back to your creepy supervillain lair."

Tony raised his repulsors in automatic threat. " _It's not mine, it's T'challa's but I'll let him know you disapprove of the decor. Between you and me, he won't take it well."_

Anthony snorted, totally at ease. He had his feet propped up on the table, an array of dismantled machine parts in front of him along with the SHIELD tablet. "Did the archaic stone table in the heavily-guarded City of the Dead not strike him as even _slightly_ too melodramatic?" Anthony seemed to ponder this. "Though now that I remember he dresses like a black cat, maybe this is totally on brand."

Tony forced his breathing to even out and scanned the room with what little clarity the HUD could give him. " _I told you this place isn't mine, so why are you here?"_

Anthony gave a little half-smile. "I'm a shitty detective but this isn't a very difficult mystery. Turns out you've gone missing a lot in the past year. You're not even hiding it that well - _but hey, it's us -_ so you say island getaway or Paris tryst and you get away with it." Anthony's smirk evaporated. "And you resent that no one ever checks."

Tony was glad the Iron Man faceplate gave nothing away. _"If you're that interested in my leisure calendar -_ "

" - Reed Richards doesn't have our excuses," Anthony interrupted. "Not in this universe at least. He has to _be_ somewhere when he goes missing. I called Sue. She's good people, even if she married wrong. She told me - well, she told _you -_ that her husband spends a lot of time these days with T'challa." Anthony twirled a piece of wire between his fingers. "And T'challa, King of the Dead, spends a lot of time these days here."

 _In the Land of the Dead._ Tony tamped down a shiver, the armour remained as still as a statue.

Anthony stared across at him without fear. "Two supergeniuses secretly in league together is a problem, three means they're trying to _solve_ a problem." He gestured to the chairs. "This table seats seven. I'm guessing at least one of these seats belongs to Banner so that makes you, him, Richards, and T'challa. Who else did you invite? Pym? Doom?"

Tony changed the subject. _"Speaking of supergenius problem children, where's your brother?"_

Anthony made a practised, dismissive motion that meant nothing. "Exploring."

 _Fuck_. At least Tony could still see the gleam of the restraining cuff around Anthony's forearm, that had to mean that Gregory was still locked into his too. Whatever security still operating would slow him down at least. "So you're the sacrificial lamb again."

Anthony's voice was light. "I don't recall you complaining last time."

_"Well with the benefit of hindsight, making out with the incarcerated alternate-universe versions of myself and my brother was not a good idea. Who could have known?"_

That seemed to hit something in Anthony - some button for guilt or shame - but before Tony could analyze it further Anthony's face smoothed out into something resolute. He placed the stolen silver key on the stone table between them; a metallic olive branch. His voice was almost pleading. "The reason I'm here is because you're hiding something Stark, and I thought I'd give you a chance to explain. Greg didn't bother sticking around because having an honest conversation in any capacity has never actually occurred to him." He squared his torso. "So, what is so broken that you and your buddies can't fix it?"

 _The multiverse_ , was the correct answer. _Me,_ was also appropriate.

If Anthony expected Tony to fill in the blanks aloud he was going to be disappointed. Tony still had the tactical advantage with the suit and while he had no back-up Anthony had no way of knowing that. So Tony carefully held his tongue and buried his secrets in the farthest recesses of his mind.

Silence reigned.

_...1:25:03, 1:25:02, 1:25:01..._

"Goddammit." Anthony sounded angry, running his hand over his face. "You always have to prove Greg right, don't you? Would it help if I promised not to judge? No? Alright, on a scale of _T'challa is my secret leather dom_ to _I'm plotting to take over the world with my minions,_ how terrible is this secret that it's screwing with you this badly?"

 _"I'm fine,_ " Tony snapped instinctively.

Anthony looked mildly offended. "Does that actually work on people who aren't us? Because you're scared out of your mind, Stark."

Tony wasn't scared, that was the problem, he was resigned. _"You're the one antagonizing a man wearing the most advanced weapons system in the world."_

"I grew up with Gregory, I've had lots of practice," Anthony replied with too much assurance.

They were getting off topic and they didn't have time. The world didn't have time. _"You need to tell me where Gregory is."_

The smirk dropped off Anthony's face. "I don't know and if I did I wouldn't tell you."

Tony bit the inside of his mouth in frustration. _"You don't understand-"_

"No, I don't," Anthony's voice was frigid, "and since you're in no hurry to tell me, you can deal with it on your own. I'll be here when you get back."

Tony disliked the idea of leaving Anthony alone but he couldn't find any way around it. The risk of Gregory wandering around and finding a way through to the crypt trumped leaving Anthony unsupervised in the antechamber. Maybe he could leave Anthony _unconscious_ in the antechamber if he could dial down the repulsors to -

"Good afternoon, Stark," came a new voice from the archway.

Tony whirled just in time to take a shot full onto the chest. The energy burst slammed into the suit and Tony _really_ shouldn't have been able to feel that but the Necropolis wreaked havoc with his systems on a good day - and this had not been a good day. The shot sent him flying backwards into the stone wall. FRIDAY was flickering in and out with most of the diagnostics rendered useless. The HUD was reduced to mostly static, the pulse having temporarily over-exposed the circuits.

Gregory emerged from the archway with some bastardized version of a pulse rifle, no doubt cobbled together from a combination of the cannibalized Blackbird and the Necropolis's leftovers. Under different circumstances Tony might have put aside enough of his ego to admire the invention but he was currently stuck in a malfunctioning suit with an armed supervillain looming over him.

There was a scraping sound as Anthony scrambled out of his chair. "Greg!"

For a single instant the man in white hesitated and that was all the time Tony needed. Instead of fighting through the static he dropped the suit completely, felt it sink back into his bones. FRIDAY ran a reboot, her progress projected directly into his retinas. Without the suit he had no defence against a blast from Gregory's makeshift phaser but that didn't matter nearly as much as this did: CEOs of private corporations were rarely taught hand-to-hand combat by Captain America. Of the three of them currently in the room, Tony was the exception.

He leapt towards Gregory, taking them both crashing into the wall, grappling. He didn't let Gregory regain range because this close the gun was so big and unwieldy as to be worthless. Tony's fist connected with Gregory's ribcage a moment before a second fist slammed into his jaw. Gregory could do nothing about it; for all his genius he was currently just a goon with a gun while Tony had hundreds of hours of getting his ass handed to him by one of the premier supersoldiers on the planet.

They fell to the stone floor; Gregory's body breaking the fall. Tony wrestled to the top as the other man snarled, blood leaking from his mouth. Tony finally managed to successfully wrench the gun away, throwing it as far away from everyone as possible as it clattered into the corner. Threat mostly eliminated, he pinned the blond to the ground, one knee anchoring his double's too bony hip to the hard stone floor, hands gripped tightly in his own.

He couldn't help a snarl of his own. "Yield?"

The man under him didn't move, icy eyes burning hate, but the blond started reciting a string of alpha-numeric code and Tony was an idiot because of course the elder Stark had put a self-destruct switch into his gun and who knows what else into the Necropolis and he could pull the whole thing down around their heads. **_REBOOT COMPLETE_ ** flashed across Tony's right retina and he wasted no time. He pulled a gauntlet out of his skin, dialed the beam down to concussive, and took aim at his trapped quarry.

That was as far as he got.

See, there was no way Anthony could have known. His armour back home didn't have concussive blast capabilities. All he saw was Tony about to deliver a repulsor blast to his brother's face at point-blank range.

" _No._ " It wasn't very loud, just a single word ripped from Anthony's throat, but both fighters recognized the terrible undercurrent underneath it and turned. They watched Anthony depress the small electronic device he'd been assembling from the Necropolis's defunct security.

For a split second nothing happened. Then Tony's retinal display shuddered. The soft whirring of the computer banks quit, the security gates locked. If someone had been piloting either the Quinjet or the Blackbird they would have fallen out of the sky. As it was both planes stayed grounded; no longer sleeping but dead.

Tony stumbled to his feet as electronics all over the compound failed. _Electromagnetic Pulse._ Anthony's weapon of choice and not a bad one when considering his most-likely opponents. A fatal one, when considering Tony. See it was already too late to call for the suit: the armour had shielding - even strong EMPs wouldn't have done more than disable it for an hour or two - but Tony wasn't wearing it and now he had no protection. The twins' restraining cuffs would shield their nanites from the pulse and even if it hadn't both Starks could live with dead nanites in their blood. Tony wasn't like them. He relied too heavily on his own biotech and particularly on the one weakness he had been sure to keep hidden.

Tony looked down at his chest and saw the white light of the RT fade as it died. He felt his blood slow in his veins without a heartbeat to keep it going, felt his brain's last ditch oxygen panic as his lungs refused to draw air. His body fell of its own accord, stripped of the wires that held it up. The last thing he saw was Anthony's horrified face and Tony wondered if he'd looked that sincere, that instantaneously repentant when it was Steve falling.

 _Probably not,_ he thought as the world tilted and the ending he deserved rushed up to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ Comic-levels of violence, temporary character death
> 
> Have another cliffhanger. For the record that is not how electromagnetic pulses work. Comments are welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Up next: _This is how the world ends._ [Every you, every me - Placebo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YR_Mft7yIM)


	8. Entombment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is how the world ends._  
>  Music: [Every you, every me - Placebo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YR_Mft7yIM)  
> Individual chapter warnings are in the endnotes.

The blue-white light in the centre of Stark's chest went out and Anthony watched him crumple like a ragdoll, without grace or dignity. There was blood where his head hit the ground, staining the flagstone an ugly burgundy. Stark's hair was black, not blond, and he was dressed in black not white and he looked nothing like Gregory, nothing like him at all, and Anthony's memory still couldn't tell the difference.

_You did this. Again._

_No._ **_No_** _._ **No.**

He rushed over the fallen man's side, fingers already exploring the device - the battery? - that was embedded in Stark's sternum over his heart. Could you even do CPR to someone like this? Biology wasn't his forte but the body was an engine. Engines he could do, engines he could fix. Stark just needed a jump start -

"You're panicking, Anthony," Greg said languidly, alive and well and utterly unconcerned with the man dying on the ground next to him. "He's not Frankenstein's monster regardless of how poorly he's pieced himself together," Greg's nose wrinkled in distaste, "an electric surge is as likely to kill him as not."

Anthony was busying himself inspecting the disc at the centre of Stark's chest. _Electricity_ , his mind supplied, a source of which would have been easier to find if he hadn't just knocked most of the Necropolis's systems offline. The power source he needed would have to be on hand and precise and shielded and -

Beside him Gregory wiped his bloody lip with the back of his hand.

Brilliant, treacherous Gregory who could pull lightning from his fingers without his restraining cuff.

\-----------------

Tony woke up with a scream torn from his throat. Pain coursed along his distressed nerve endings, bright white and hot before shorting out and he dropped mercifully back into darkness.

"Oh, no you don't," a sneering voice said, "I want you to live through what comes next."

It was fitting if surprising that the voice of God sounded just like Tony's own and seemed to hate him on a personal level. Curiosity rather than faith spurred him to open his eyes and while he never believed in the afterlife there was something to be said for _Hell being other people_ because the white blur in his vision resolved into his own reflection. He was dressed in a white suit with blood staining the lapels, dirt and ash running up the left side, tie askew. His eyes were blue and burning, malicious and disgusted in equal measure.

_Gregory._

Tony let his eyes fall closed once more. Not Hell then, just Earth, though the difficulty in telling the two apart was ratcheting up with each passing day.

"I know you're awake, electrocution does nothing if not perk up the senses," Gregory drawled.

Stiffly Tony slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. "Well I guess you'd know," he mumbled but the other man had already moved away. Tony's undersuit had been torn open, the RT exposed and wires dangling from leads but glowing a steady, pulsing white. It was pointless to hide it now but Tony had trouble resisting the urge. There was congealed blood on his forehead and his temples throbbed with the familiar pressure of a concussion.

He'd been moved while unconscious to one of the Necropolis's smaller, tastefully-decorated conference rooms. Gregory had joined Anthony who was standing on the raised dais in front of a set of holographic displays and it was at that point that Tony realized two terrible things at once: firstly, that neither brother was sporting his fashionable biotech-deadening cuff anymore and secondly... secondly...

It felt as if the RT had ceased functioning again. An awful feeling detonated in Tony's chest and spread dread like fallout through his ribcage. It had finally happened.

Gregory didn't even smile. "I knew you were hiding something Stark, but this is... impressive."

Above the twin heads, outlined in blue, swirled all the Illuminati's secrets - all of _Tony's_ secrets - the Incursions, the World-Killer, the anti-matter bombs, the rogue planet, Sol's Hammer... and dominating the assortment, a digital clock ticking down the seconds until the end of the universe.

_...00:45:13, 00:45:12, 00:45:11..._

They knew. They knew all of it. It felt like a tidal wave crashing through Tony's chest and he was drowning on dry land, exposed. Gregory was absorbed in the plans, rapidly running through files. Anthony wasn't. He was simply leaning over the console, hands braced and head bowed. Tony couldn't see his face. He didn't need to.

When Anthony finally spoke his voice was hollow. "I wanted to know why you were scared. I was fully prepared to tell you you were full of shit and your secrets weren't worth dying for." He snorted humourlessly. "I guess you showed me."

Tony swallowed and said nothing, words deserting him. Trying to access the armour under his skin hurt and only the slightest frazzle answered. The interior circuits were fried when Gregory's jump juice had restarted his heart and brought him back to life.

"Thank you," Tony rasped, surprised by his own sincerity.

Gregory spun around, hostile. "I didn't do it for you. I wanted the cuff off. Your miserable life was the price."

Tony's gaze flicked to Anthony who motioned to Leonard's tablet. "I didn't need to decrypt it. I've known the password since Greg's first breakout. Doc kept the cuff plans on there and along with them - "

"- the deactivation codes," Tony finished, closing his eyes. Gregory spun a web of electricity in his palm to prove his freedom.

Anthony shook his head. "I was willing to keep him restrained. I know the damage my brother can do but I thought keeping you alive was worth the risk." He turned back to the screens the detailing megaton yields required to blow up a planet. "I underestimated you."

Something curdled in Tony's stomach. This was what exposure felt like. _This was what it was_ **_always_ ** _going to feel like, you just talked yourself into believing you'd have saved something along the way._

 _"Incursion event: Northern Territory, Australia_ ," Gregory read aloud. "We have half an hour until the two Earths touch and both universes collapse." His shrewd gaze found Tony. "Unless of course someone decides to do something about it." The lighter twin looked to his brother for a reaction but Anthony didn't give him one, just kept sorting through information.

"It might not be our Earth," Anthony argued limply.

Gregory just leaned on the bank of computers and crossed his ankles, keeping Tony in sight. "The math says it probably is, which means this Universe's Maker is leading a mission right now to kill the world you swore to protect. Still think I'm the villainous one, little brother? You were upset at the thought of me toppling a few dictators to advance the American Empire, look at what has come instead." Greg spread his arms to encompass the swirling plans. His voice turned serious. "This universe isn't any less rotten than ours except in this universe the men who thinks like me have _help_." Gregory smiled at Tony as if he were in on the joke. "They're going to kill us; you've done the calculations, they'll have to. The incursions won't stop and they can't solve it."  
  
It was an indictment and Tony had no defence. He had nothing; no suit, no weapons, no excuse that held up in the blue glow of all those plans, all that cataclysmic promise. Anthony was watching him like he was waiting for Tony to deny it, to say _I didn't know_ or _I would never_ but when Tony opened his mouth all that came out was honesty.

"He's right. We can't solve it. We've tried. We've been trying."

_And failing, and failing, and failing._

A look of awful resignation settled on Anthony's face as he turned to his brother. "The anti-matter bombs are in the basement, check if they've taken one."

Gregory strode casually towards the arsenal and Tony's anxiety spiked because he couldn't let that happen. Unknown biotech in the vicinity of planet-killing bombs was a bad idea. Supervillains he'd recently ticked off in proximity to planet-killing bombs was a bad idea.

 _Maybe it's the bombs that are the bad idea,_ his treacherous mind whispered, _maybe Steve was right just not in the way he thought._

_Contemplate philosophy later, stop him now._

Easier said than done, Tony had nothing to stop him with. The RT was the only tech he still had functioning: unstable, finite, and unfocused. His heart as such; metal and unfeeling and weaponized. The energy beam it emitted would be relatively weak, definitely not enough to faze Gregory with his nanites up and running but with a terrible flash of insight Tony's gaze swung in the other direction. It would be enough to stop Anthony. The man in question was currently slumped, defeated, with his back turned to them both. A sitting duck. It would make a decent distraction if nothing more, all Tony had to do was fire at the person in the room who currently deserved it least.

If Tony were a Catholic martyr he'd be the patron saint of knowing something is wrong and doing it anyway. _St. Anthony of spurned opportunities and missed second chances._ He fired. Deliberately wide but close enough to count and the result was instantaneous. Gregory spun from the doorway as the computer bank exploded and a dark blur fell to the wayside, unharmed but shocked. Everyone froze.

"What the fuck, Stark?!" Anthony screeched but Tony had bigger problems. Gregory was walking steadily towards him as Tony scrambled back along the stone floor. One glance up confirmed his distraction plan had worked 1000 times better than expected.

The glint in Gregory's eyes was cold and full of pure, unfiltered rage. "You're going to die for that."

He probably was. Tony sent a second and final blast toward them as covering fire before leaping to his feet and racing out towards the antechamber, a rough plan already forming in his mind. _Step 1: Obtain a weapon._ The armour was still down and the RT only held so much charge so Tony raced for the meeting room to grab Gregory's discarded pulse rifle. No one - by which he meant _No Stark_ \- would lug around something as inelegant as that gun once they were given access to advanced biotech so Tony was banking on it being exactly where he'd thrown it. He arrived in the meeting room and slammed the doors shut, barricading himself in. The doors were thick, polished wood because T'challa hadn't been raised by wolves and maybe Gregory would appreciate their expense and not blast them off their hinges and where was the gun and _fuck_ -

 _Step 1-b: Obtain a_ **_working_ ** _weapon._ Between Anthony's EMP and Tony throwing it rather roughly into a wall, the rifle was in bad shape. Tony looked at the mess of wires at the end of the stone table, the dead gun, and the battery in his chest, and went to work.

_No time pressure or anything, Tony, but what happens if you can't do this? Do you move onto Step 1-c: Throw useless weapon at nearly-invincible supervillain in futile gesture, be blown up immediately afterward?_

_Shut up, shut up, shut up. I've got this. This is what I do best._

It turned out Tony had been partially right about the decor, Gregory spared the doors. He came straight through the stone wall instead. The blast took out a decent chunk of the rock and Greg walked through just as Tony was finishing the last few connections.

"Running, Stark? Really?"

Tony raised the rifle as it came alight. "Not anymore."

The blast hit the shell of nanites around Gregory, killing a few and leaving behind a shimmering hole like that in the ozone layer. It did precious little damage to the man himself but when Greg recovered he did not look pleased.

_Not good. Not good. Not good -_

_Step 2: Lead unfashionable supervillain away from arsenal of bombs._ Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. Tony dodged Gregory's next fit of lightning by launching himself out the first floor window.

The noonday sun nearly blinded him, where was rainy weather and darkness when you needed it? Under the hot Wakandan sun Tony stood out like - well, like a man in black standing in a goddamn desert. He looked around desperately. He only had a few more shots before he'd drain the RT's charge through his terrible jerry-rigged connection. He had no defensive capabilities whatsoever and what he desperately needed was cover and - there; the tombs, the sacred ruins. T'challa was going to kill him but dying later was better than dying now. They were mounting an entire universal defense based on that premise.

_So, what's Step 3 here, Tony? Kill Gregory? Try to disable the nanites and subdue him? Try to run out the clock until the universe ends or the Illuminati return?_

_...00:15:44, 00:15:43..._

Gregory was picking his way meticulously through the ruins before he stilled and raised his arm. The blast was precise, taking out the lone tombstone Tony had elected to hide behind. Tony fired two shots blindly back before he fled deeper into the cemetery.

"This is getting tedious, Stark. I have thermal imaging and all the other people here are already dead. You'll be joining them soon enough."

 _Fuck_. The clock in Tony's head ticked down steadily. Gregory would almost certainly catch up to him before time ran out. He checked the gun and found he had two shots left. He reached for the suit under his skin and felt only a tingle submerged under the tidal wave of adrenaline. Still offline. Blood dripped into his vision and he stopped trying to wipe it away.

Open ceremonial ground lay ahead. If you had to die, a ritualistic altar in the City of the Dead was a pretty good setting. T'challa would have to forgive him this final trespass. He ran for the clearing, Gregory sauntering behind, white coat billowing and stained. Tony suddenly felt like a Neanderthal hoping to stave off extinction by throwing rocks at _homo sapiens_ and everyone knew how poorly that went.

In the end it wasn't even a contest: the last two shots Tony fired from nearly point blank range hit Gregory's defensive shell dead centre and it didn't matter one whit. The nanites had already learned from their mistake and this time they absorbed enough of the energy that a double tap did nothing but cause a slight shimmer. Tony did resort to Step 1-c then and threw the gun at Gregory only for it to vaporize the moment it hit his forcefield. Tony had nothing left. He was panting from exertion, blood mixing with sweat, the concussion wreaking havoc with his thoughts.

He made an effort to avoid the grab but it was no use. One of Gregory's hands went around his throat, the other pushed him backwards until he was half-lying on top of one of the stone altars. The sudden violent movement made him dizzy. The rock against his back was unforgiving and burning hot from lying under the Wakandan sun. Gregory loomed above him, weight pinning Tony down as if the nanite strength advantage wasn't enough. From up close Gregory didn't look nearly as unaffected as he did from a distance. There was blood drying in his too-light hair from their earlier tussle and his left sleeve was torn where he'd obviously gotten frustrated and torn it. 

"That was a very stupid thing to do, Stark." Gregory ripped the connecting wires trailing from the RT as Tony flinched under him.

Tony's arms were useless, scrambling against the dual threats to his heart and his breathing. "Had to... Had to get you away from the bombs."

Gregory raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Tony couldn't say anything until Gregory seemed to realize the unfairness of asking a question that couldn't be answered and eased the pressure off Tony's windpipe. He sputtered, gulping air. "I'm not... going to... let you... blow up... this Earth."

Gregory laughed. It wasn't a supervillain laugh; it was staccato, uneven, and _real_ , and all the more terrifying for it. "Why would I want to do that?"

Tony stopped struggling. "To save yours."

"It's not _mine_ ," Gregory snarled and Tony felt fingers flex against his throat. "It had its chance. Let it burn. It deserves nothing less. If you want to blow up the world I lived and died in, you go right ahead." The blond's glare could have cut glass and his grip tightened. "But you could have killed Anthony and for that you don't get to see what comes next. It's a pity. I rather liked the idea of you having to live through the war you've so diligently prepared for because here's the thing: _I know you_." His smile promised everything. "You won't be able to press that button and detonate those bombs. You'll have lied and schemed and manipulated for nothing because in the end you're just as weak as Anthony. You lack conviction." Gregory's blue eyes were twin pinpricks of dark glee but his voice was harsh in its truth. "You're the man who sells his soul but never collects and nothing would amuse me more than to watch you realize that."

Tony's heart dropped. That was the final test and he didn't know which way he'd fall: if he'd kill a stranger's world to save two universes or if he'd refuse the massacre on principle. He didn't know which choice to hope for. At least if he died today he wouldn't find out what kind of disappointment he turned out to be.

"You couldn't kill a world," Gregory paused and leaned down to whisper in Tony's ear, "...but I could." Tony grew cold. "I would do what had to be done to save this universe and with the double-barrel your Illuminati friends currently have pressed against their temples they'd hardly say no to the help. So the question remains, what does this Earth need _you_ for?"

 _Nothing._ Tony could die here on the ground knowing that his world would be safe because Gregory would always push the detonator. He'd choose necessity above morality every time.

 _I_ _f you're so sick of playing the villain why not let a natural step in and take your place? Do you think those people will care as their Earth burns around them that their reapers had hearts?_

"I revived you, it's only fitting I fix my own mistake." Gregory's fleet of nanites aligned their electrical charges causing brittle crackling snakes to erupt. "Electricity is like most vices - it's the excess of it that kills you. I happen to know dying like this hurts." He glanced down with a bored look. "Goodbye, Stark."

For once in his life Tony didn't try to alter the future he knew was coming. It had finally been enough. _...00:09:34, 00:09:33, 00:09 -_

He stopped the countdown, it didn't matter what happened next. He shut his eyes, grit his teeth, and waited for the record to stop.

There was a pause.

"Open your eyes," Gregory ordered coldly.

Tony reflexively disobeyed. He didn't want to die looking into the same soulless blue eyes he sometimes saw staring at him in the mirror, confirmation of everything he was becoming. He wouldn't give Gregory the satisfaction. What followed was pain. A bout of electricity zipped up Tony's spine and jolted him from the ground. Not enough to kill.

 _"Open. Your. Eyes,"_ Gregory spat, menace dripping from every word.

Tony did not. Enhanced strength hauled him up by his collar and slammed him backwards into a stone ruin. Tony could sense the vibrations of the nanites, could smell the ionized air of lightning and kept his eyes tightly shut.

"Why must you make everything difficult, Anthony? _Open your eyes._ "

Tony's brain latched onto _Anthony_. That was important somehow. Gregory had called him Anthony, not Stark, had mistaken Tony for his tragically disappointing little brother. Why not? They had the same dark hair, same athletic build, same tanned skin...

 _Oh._ A tiny bubble of laughter escaped Tony's throat when he figured it out because it was absurd. Absurd and nonsensical and perfect because his amoral doppelganger could destroy a world at the drop of a hat but couldn't bring himself to kill someone who looked like the brother he claimed to hate. But Anthony's eyes were brown and Tony's eyes were blue. _Open your eyes._

A roll of thunder boomed across the badlands like a death knell. Gregory didn't know what that sound meant but Tony did. He did open his eyes then, didn't fight the broken smile making its way onto his face because that sound meant he was saved and doomed in equal measure because Tony's mistakes always, always caught up with him: SHIELD had finally tracked down their stolen Quinjet.  
  
The Avengers had arrived.

Before Gregory could move Tony heard the slight whistling of one of Hawkeye's arrows followed by a flash-bang and then a firm grip was dragging Tony away from the blast site. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Suit?" Cap asked and Tony shook his head, choking on dust. He was impressed he even managed that because Steve was at the Necropolis again and that meant they were about to learn the limits of Stephen's memory magic because the universe Tony was selling his soul to protect hated him.

He was shaking in Steve's grip - concussion and adrenaline and panic. All his sins were converging under the wide Wakandan sky and Tony couldn't concentrate. _Plan, Tony, you need a plan._ But there were too many moving parts, too many conflicting agendas: the Avengers, the Illuminati, the good Stark, the bad Stark, the lies, the bombs, the Incursions; all piling on top of each other, inextricable.

Gregory clambered to his feet and Cap's shield came flying in only to bounce harmlessly off his protective shell of nanites. He had learned his lesson from the Helicarrier.

The shield returned gracefully to Steve's waiting hand. "Dr. Gregory Stark, on behalf of SHIELD and the Avengers I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."

The metallic taste of electricity was back in the air as the rest of the Avengers circled. Gregory drew himself up to full height, surprise forgotten, his white suit ruffling in the storm's downburst. "Oh Captain, I'm afraid on my Earth I was never the _come quietly_ type."

The corner of Steve's mouth ticked up underneath the cowl. "I've heard. But you're on our Earth now and in this universe..." his eyes turned heavenward, "our Thor's a God."

From high in the storm clouds came a flash of lightning and a streak of red and Mjiolnir met Gregory's protective shell with a resounding crack and the fight began in earnest. _The Avengers vs Gregory Part Deux_ because history loves an encore but Gregory wasn't going down easy; all his biotech in perfect working order because this time around his brother hadn't disabled it with an EMP -

Tony looked around through the smoke and dust, and Anthony - _fuck_ \- Anthony was nowhere to be found.

\--------------

Tony ran for the burnt out husk of the Necropolis, hoping to catch Anthony where they left him on the dais even though Tony knew with a certainty buried deep in his bones where he'd be instead. The wood made a loud bang when Tony swung open the door to the Crypt and he was greeted by the horrible familiar sight of the forest of warheads. Projected onto the East wall was the Incursion countdown, ticking down with terrible regularity.

_...00:05:56, 00:05:55, 00:05:54..._

He took the stairs two at a time to the bottom before cautiously approached the weapons, each bomb a large steel tombstone in a graveyard of destruction. _Olly, olly, oxen free._ This time Anthony didn't call out, Tony just rounded a corner and there he was, sitting with his back to the base of a bomb, wires spilling out. His eyes were locked on the countdown clock, seemingly deaf to the sounds of the battle raging above. Tony was almost relieved until he spotted the small handheld device in Anthony's hand hooked up to the bomb's innards. Tony knew exactly what it was because in Anthony's place he would have made the same thing.

A detonator.

Depress it and the anti-matter bomb triggers; takes the cavern, takes the city, takes the planet. Turnabout was fair play after all. Gregory might have rejected the Earth that had rejected him but Anthony wouldn't. He clung to his terrible, unfair universe with the desperate loyalty of a Stockholm syndrome victim. Anthony looked up at Tony's approach and shifted the detonator to his other hand. Tony took that as his cue to halt.

Above them, with impending doom, the countdown continued its relentless march.

... _00:04:43, 00:04:42, 00:04:41..._

Anthony smiled weakly. "Boy did I pick the wrong week to stop drinking."

"First week is the hardest," Tony rasped. He could barely keep himself standing and gave into temptation, sliding down to sit at the base of an opposing bomb. "The entirety of the sixth year's pretty terrible too."

Anthony tilted his head. "You know what, I don't think I believe you."

"That's probably fair."

"Nothing's fair," stated Anthony with the certainly of someone who had firsthand experience. "The universe isn't designed that way. Sometimes the only option is to lose."

Everyone had to eventually. No one's luck held forever. Tony said nothing, trying to match his racing heartbeat to the relentless descent of the count projected above.

Anthony shook his head, mocking his own foolishness. "I had my own no-win scenario: to help Greg or to help you. I was bound to lose either way. Should have known better." He took in the extent of Tony's injuries: the blood on his temple, the ring of bruises around his throat. "What happened to Greg?"

It was pointless to lie. "The Avengers."

The back of Anthony's head hit the bomb with a hollow thump. " _Goddammit, Greg_. I hate funerals."

Tony licked dry lips. "The Avengers don't kill. We don't do that."

 _"They_ don't do that," Anthony corrected. Starks did. Starks built their fortunes on war and spent them on heroism but never quite managed to give up on dealing death. It was who they were.

Anthony cradled the detonator closer and Tony forced himself to ask the question he dreaded. "What are you planning to do with that?"

Anthony blinked at the device like he was only now seeing it for the first time. As if an instinct had simply risen in him and then suddenly he literally held the fate of the world in his hands. "I don't know." He looked up at the countdown. "Looks like I have two minutes and fifteen-seconds to decide."

_...00:02:13, 00:02:12, 00:02:11..._

"I guess I'm supposed to save my Earth and blow up yours." Anthony's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I don't even _like_ my Earth. Not too keen on yours either."

Tony nodded, voice raw. "You don't like it, but you'd kill for it." Anthony's lips twisted but he didn't correct him. Tony pressed the only case he had left. "But look, we don't know it's your Earth involved in the Incursion. It could be a wasteland and then you press that button and we die for nothing. You destroy a planet full of people for nothing."

Anthony immediately found the flaw in that argument. "So maybe it's not mine, maybe it's someone else's. For all you know it's a wonderful world where everyone gets along and no one has WMDs stacked in their basements or orbiting their suns. And no hangovers. That'd be an Earth worth saving."

"Sure," Tony agreed lightly, "but I'm like you." Anthony raised an eyebrow and Tony tried to shrug. He felt the bones of his shoulder joint grind together instead. "I'd save my world no matter how bad it got."

_...00:01:39, 00:01:38, 00:01:37..._

Tony was hypnotized by the red digits ticking down. There was one more horrible scenario left. "What if the rest of the Illuminati have already killed your Earth? The crime's already been committed, your home's already gone. The universe is saved and this clock's counting down to nothing special."

Anthony rolled the detonator between his palms. If it were anyone else Tony would be worried about accidental triggering. Anthony hesitated. "I guess I'd avenge them."

That... Tony's smile was exhausted. "That's supposed to be my schtick, Founding Avenger and all that."

"You're also an Illuminatum, which I think is Latin for _fancy lamp_." Gallows humour, Anthony's eyes held nothing hopeful.

Tony joined him anyway. "At least those are nouns. You're an Ultimate. No one in your world got past the adjective when naming you guys."

This was what they were wasting their last minute on Earth on, arguing the semantics of stupid team names, and at the end Anthony would decide. The countdown flashed _00:00:55_ and the ceiling shook, dislodging sand as the stones ground against each other. Above the clatter of battle a distant roar was heard ( _big, and green, and_ **_mean_** _)_ but before Tony could place it the Necropolis's security re-engaged which meant -

"Tony!"

\- the Illuminati had returned. Reed came barrelling through the doors at the top of the stairs and took one look at Anthony with the detonator in his hand and froze.

"You're back early." Anthony gestured to the clock. _...00:00:47, 00:00:46..._ "Have fun killing things?"

Reed was still out of breath, eyes as wide as saucers as he raised his palms in surrender. "It was a dead world. There was nothing there."

Tony was immediately thankful it was Reed and not T'challa or Namor because the look of naked relief on his face was uncovered and open for all to see. Then Anthony threw back his head and laughed and Tony remembered that in no way shape or form would Anthony find the presence of Reed Richards - _any_ Reed Richards - comforting.

Reed recognized it too, fear swallowing his expression whole. "I'm not lying. I wouldn't. I swear," he pleaded, "I swear on my children's lives it was a dead world."

Above them the clock ticked down unplacated. _...00:00:35, 00:00:34..._ Tony couldn't feel his left arm anymore. The world was shifting in and out of focus.

Anthony's grip on the detonator never loosened. His eyes were already dead. "What are their names?"

"Wh- what?" stammered Reed.

"Your kids. I never asked Sue."

"Franklin and Valeria," Reed choked out. "Please... It was a dead world. You don't need to -"

The rest was drowned out by the flashing red lights of the thirty second warning. The red strobe ricocheted off the metal of the bombs and reflected ad infinitum through the maze. A midnight rave at the end of the world.

"Here's the thing," Anthony croaked, "I don't believe you. Either of you."

There was really nothing to say to that.

Reed looked at Tony like he should know the magic combination of words that would get through to his double.

Tony was just tired. "I tried." What a perfect epitaph; one last inadequate justification.

The brilliance of the flicking numbers reflected off the dark near-black of Anthony's haunted eyes.

_00:00:14_   
_00:00:13_   
_00:00:12_

_This is the way the world ends._

When Anthony spoke again it was soft, so soft but Tony could hear nothing else. "It doesn't matter if you're lying. It doesn't matter if it was a dead world, or if it was home because you win." A terrible, broken laugh bubbled out of his throat. "Greg was right. He's always right. I can't -" Anthony sucked in a breath and looked into Tony's eyes. Tony was afraid to ask what he saw there. "I _can't_. So you'll always win."

His hand dropped the detonator. It fell to the floor with a clack and rolled away.

Anthony crumpled around his knees, head tucked, while Reed buried his face in his hands. Tony slipped onto his back, his body giving out. He closed his eyes and red light danced behind eyelids.

_00:00:02_   
_00:00:01_   
_00:00 -_

Above them the timer hit zero and just this once nobody died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ Comic-levels of violence. Swearing.
> 
> There is a decent amount of swearing in this chapter in Tony's inner monologue. I thought about changing it but did not in the end. _Shrugs._ On a personal note, I think this is my favourite chapter. 
> 
> Up next: _The Illuminati gather._ [Closer to the Heart - Rush](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyhW2v0NDM0)


	9. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Illuminati gather._  
>  Music: [Closer to the Heart - Rush](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyhW2v0NDM0)  
> Individual chapter warnings are in the endnotes.

In the end it had been T'challa who had saved them. He was the one who had followed the crypt's alarms back across the veil after the Illuminati had done their duty. He reinstated all the Necropolis's defences and banned the Avengers from entering after the battle was done. He had the foresight to bring only Reed and Bruce with him so as to arouse the fewest suspicions. He stabilized the anti-matter bombs, fended off helpful Avengers, bargained with Maria, and had all the Starks bundled into the Royal Palace before anyone could start asking the hard questions. Even for a man as accomplished as T'challa it was an impressive feat, keeping all the pieces on the board and moving in such a way that nothing ever intersected, no tipping point was ever crossed. Lies and authority holding together the charade like spider's silk.

The only two loose ends left were Anthony and Gregory.

It was well past midnight when Tony sat in the latter's hospital room with bandages taped around his ribs and his arm in a sling watching his blond double slowly regain consciousness. It was dark outside and the lights were off but the bright halogen glow from the hallway spilled in through the crack under the door. There shouldn't have been light at all - these types of dealings deserved to be restricted to the shadows.

In the bed, Gregory stirred.

"I know you're awake. If your head hurts it's because Thor hits like a freight train." Tony saw a sliver of light illuminate pale skin as Gregory turned. "You'll notice the cuff's back on because I've had just about enough of you electrocuting me, helpful RT jumpstart excluded."

"You're welcome," rasped the man in the bed as he slowly moved his right forearm in front of his face and studied the familiar metal band.

Tony took a deep breath and released it because what would it matter in the end? "I see you're conveniently forgetting the part where you tried to kill me."

"What's a little attempted murder compared to the destruction of a planet?"

"It was a dead Earth."

 _"I don't care,"_ Gregory replied hoarsely and for the first time Tony fancied he could hear real exhaustion in his voice. The blond's injuries were non-life threatening but extensive. Tony knew how hard Thor and Steve could hit. He remembered.

There was still blood and dirt in Gregory's blond hair and in the dim light his skin was bloodless. He looked like a corpse in a morgue. "This is the third time you've come to interrogate me Stark. Need I remind you your first two ended badly."

Tony still needed answers. "Why did you bring him here?"

There was no need to clarify who _him_ was and Gregory's bones creak as he shifted. "I didn't. I told you, I don't know how we got here. I can't find the bridgepoint or the power source. Neither can SHIELD and neither can you."

"You did tell me that but I've come to the realization you can lie."

Gregory smiled bitterly. His teeth seemed to glow in the dark. "Not quite as well as you as it turns out."

"Maybe you didn't know how you got here in the beginning but you figured it out. You're smarter than Anthony - or at least he thinks so. Reed looked you over while you were unconscious. By our reckoning you come from Universe-1610. The amount of energy required to tunnel through universal boundaries is literally astronomical; very few things can do it."

Tony got to his feet and flicked on the backlit screens mounted on the wall. They showed a series of x-rays and CAT scans with _Patient: Stark, Anthony Edward, Earth-1610_ written along the bottom. The outline of a human skull appeared, white translucent tendrils tracing back through the brain to the central tumour. The doctors had marked the opaque shape as benign, Reed had marked it as something else. Something powerful, something dangerous.

Gregory got out of the bed, bones grinding against each other. He took faltering steps to stand in front of the illuminated screens and found confirmation written in Reed's abrupt script. "So it's true."

Tony nodded. "Here's what I think happened. I think you knew what was growing inside your brother's head. I think you figured out the only way to make it stop growing was to remove it from your native universe, so you brought him here somehow using its power. I want to know what you intended to do with it if you ever got it out of his head."

There was a stillness like the calm in a cemetery. Then:

 _"Nothing,"_ whispered Gregory.

 _Nothing_ was not on the list of answers Tony was expecting. That amount of power was too much of a temptation, surely Gregory had a plan. "Then why bother bring him to this universe at all? Why not stay home and take your revenge there?"

Gregory was still examining the scans, the fluorescent light washing out all the colour in his face and hair. His right index finger traced the outline of the dead tumour in Anthony' head and suddenly Tony just knew: _there was no follow up, no sequel, no part II._ **This** was the whole plan, just get it to stop growing. Just stop the brain cancer. Gregory had brought his brother here to save his life, had intended to break him out of the Helicarrier, had revived Tony on his instructions, and had nearly killed him shortly afterward for threatening Anthony's life.

_Occam's Razor: Do not introduce complexity when a simple solution explains all variables._

"You love your brother," whispered Tony, shaking his head and running a hand over his face. "Steve was right. You saved him because you care."

It was as if his words broke a spell and Gregory's lip curled. "A waste, given what's coming."

The death of the multiverse hadn't slowed. They had survived one more Incursion with the promise of an infinite many to come and the chance of Earth-1610 increased with every moment the brothers spent here.

"You're going to have to kill me, you know," Gregory said lightly, finally turning from the screens. "I know too much and I'll do too much. Send me home or keep me here, you're screwed in equal measure. Either I tell all your _friends_ what you've been up to - and I'm certain they'll correct that assumption - or I go back home to my universe and engage in the noble venture of keeping it alive at the expense of yours."

Tony had already had this conversation with the rest of the Illuminati. The vote had been close. "I didn't want to do this."

"But that won't stop you from doing it." Gregory appraised him. "Anthony won't forgive you for this."

"He forgave you for everything."

"I'm his brother, you're not," Gregory said, like that explained everything. Maybe it did. He limped over to stand in front of Tony and sneered. "What are you waiting for?"

Tony checked his watch. "It's not time yet."

Gregory's pupils caught the light and it made them shine inhumanly from within. "How are you ever going to trigger one of those bombs if you can't even kill me?"

Tony had no answer. He used to pride himself on third options and self-sacrifice and then the multiverse started splintering and dead choices were all he had left.

Gregory shook his head in amusement. "You could have killed me in my sleep, Stark, why did you wake me? Were you expecting I'd forgive you?"

"No." The secondhand of Tony's watch ticked closer. "I wanted to know if there was anything redeemable in you." _In me._ "I promise I'll take care of Anthony," he added, almost out of time. "You won't remember, but I promise."

There was a flare of light from the corner shadows. Right on time. Stephen stepped forward and Gregory's gaze snapped to him, realization dawning in his eyes as he took in the cloak and the amulets.

"You're not going to die tonight, Greg." Tony's mouth turned wry. "You'll have to wait your turn with the rest of us."

Gregory's hands curled into fists and he glared as Tony retreated out of Stephen's way. "You can't avoid making the hard decisions forever, Stark."

If the hard ones were yet to come then the easy ones had broken Tony long ago. "Do it, Stephen."

Strange made a complicated motion with his hands and Gregory swayed for an instant, mesmerized by some light visible only to him, before collapsing. Tony caught him as he fell, one hand cradling the blond head as he lowered them both to the ground. It was much too gentle a gesture, blatantly unfair to all those Tony had pushed and then watched fall. He had plenty of sympathy for monsters these days. He anticipated his own fall too keenly not to show the mercy he hoped the universe would return in kind.

Stephen looked worn, the Sorcerer Supreme wearing thin along the seams. "T'challa and Reed found the bridgepoint to send them home."

"Good."

"No," Stephen said gravely. "It's not good news. They requested you join them as soon as possible."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?" Tony rasped, trying to mask his exhaustion.

Stephen nodded once. "Until tomorrow." Then he disappeared.

Tony tucked Gregory back into the hospital bed and slumped into the bedside chair, awash under the unnatural glow of the x-ray screens. He'd find out what new horrible thing T'challa and Reed had found at dawn.

The digital clock read _12:27 am_. He had at least eight hours.

\----------------

The Wakandan doctors said Greg's memory loss was most likely caused by a combination of head trauma and a short-circuit in Greg's proprietary biotech. They couldn't guarantee he'd ever regain his memories of the last few days. Anthony had no idea who they were trying to fool because as far as lies went it was biologically and technologically impossible and he told them so repeatedly and with supporting evidence. That was all it took to get him quite literally invited to the table. A blue lion-ape-man quoting Shakespeare picked him up in a Blackbird and flew them back to the Necropolis where he was deposited at the same stupid stone table he'd built the EMP at three days earlier.

"Good morning fellas," he greeted, faking cheerfulness to the solemn room. He slipped into a chair next to his double who had the good grace to look worse for wear: bruised and bloodshot, with his left arm in a cast.

Richards was there, so was Banner, and a man in a red cloak who looked like a wizard which would have been worth poking fun at if Anthony didn't suspect he actually had the magic to back it up. There were others he didn't recognize: an Elven man who looked like he hated Anthony on principle and a man in a black-and-white bodysuit who didn't say a word. The Black Panther was standing at the head of the table and Anthony tried not to let his surprise show when T'challa revealed himself to not be mute in this universe.

"You've been a disruptive presence at my hospital, Anthony Stark."

"You've somehow erased my brother's memory and are hiding over one hundred planet-killing bombs with the intent on using them on inhabited worlds. Let's compare crimes." A number of the Illuminati winced, a few seemed immune. Stark stared into the table in front of him, silent.

The red-cloaked man spoke, "I suppressed certain events in Gregory's memory by magic. It did not harm him in any way and his thought processes will remain intact. There are no side-effects to the mind."

Anthony glared daggers. "And how long do you think it'll take him to get around that?"

"We've tested it. It's permanent," Stark said flatly as he avoided everyone's gaze.

Anthony studied the faces around table. "If convenient memory loss is your go-to solution for dissenters, I suppose I might as well tell you I have some insurance of my own before Magic Fingers here gets any ideas."

That got everyone's attention.

Anthony smiled his smarmiest smile. "The last time I was here I had access to your computer systems. I sent copies of your files - every secret you have, everything you've done - to different servers across the globe. If I magically become unable to remember - _or too dead to care_ \- and neglect to maintain them, you lose. Those files become public knowledge. And in case you have any ideas about hacking my nanites again," he rounded on Stark, "I'll point out that I have a new cuff and Leonard Samson is not about to trust you this time."

The reactions around the table varied from frustration to anger to fear. Everyone forgot in the advent of Gregory that Anthony wasn't just a useless prop.

The Elven man did not look amused. "We should have killed them both the moment they arrived."

"Namor, please," the Ape-Cat-Man pleaded.

"We need to send you home," T'challa broke it, fixing Anthony with a kingly gaze. "The longer you say the shorter the tether - "

Anthony didn't bother hiding his impatience. "I read your files, skip to the _How_."

There was an unexpected silence.

"This is how," Richards said. He illuminated several blue holograms above the table and Anthony recognized his own brain scans. Mostly the ones Banner had shown him before but annotated in the Maker's black scrawl. Richards pointed to a slice where the web of white winding through his grey matter terminated at his brain's no-longer-malignant tumour.

"You never had brain cancer," Richards stated softly. "The mass that was growing in your head isn't a tumour. It's an Infinity Stone. The Mind Gem to be specific. It's why your hallucination of Little-Anthony was so clear - the incomplete gem drew on your memory reserves as a template. As it grew it also started asserting itself in other ways, it started affecting the world around you, helping you with whatever you needed." Richards swiped and an active simulation played, mimicking the cancer's spread. "The gem fed on your psychological scar tissue and eventually it grew powerful enough to tunnel between universes."

"...And I fell down the rabbit hole." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. Stark was still resolutely avoiding his gaze. "Why do I get the feeling that going back won't be as easy as clicking my heels together and repeating _There's no place like home_."

Richards's eyes darted away, like he wanted to be anywhere else. "When transuniversal tunnels collapse they leave a bridgepoint. Our satellite nets didn't find one." His gaze desperately shot to Stark. "We couldn't find where you tunnelled through so we couldn't send you back."

Stark was still doing his best imitation of a statue and when he finally spoke his voice was barely a rasp. "We've spent so long keeping secrets we couldn't see the obvious."

"Meaning?" Anthony dug.

"You can't really disguise bridgepoints. They're enormous reserves of power. We couldn't find any other sources that matched the dimensional energy signatures of you or your brother." Stark exhaled. "That was the trick."

"Hurry it up," sneered the Angry Elf and Bodysuit-Headpiece made an abrupt motion in sign language shutting him up.

Stark's eyes finally met Anthony's. "There aren't any more sources. Just you two." He held his breath. "So name something absurdly powerful that didn't exist in either of our universes until you got here."

 _What the hell kind of question was that? How was Anthony supposed to know what **didn't**_ _exist_ -

Oh.

 _"Gregory,"_ Anthony breathed.

Stark nodded. "The Mind Gem drew on your memories of your brother, decided it didn't want you to die and then punched a hole through universes and dragged you through. Gregory - _this_ Gregory - is a grown-up, rogue version of Little-Anthony with a lot more power. He's the bridgepoint."

Anthony should have felt something but he mostly felt numb. _You could have wished for world peace but your subconscious wanted your asshole brother back instead._ And what he got was an imitation so perfect he hadn't noticed.

Richards was talking. "Infinity Stones only work in their native universe. Your tumour stopped growing as soon as you got here and 'Gregory' - who should have been a hallucination - became 'real', for lack of a better term. The problem," and the hologram flitted to a different diagram, "is that inactive or not your universe still wants its stone back. The Mind Gem is tethering our universes together and with the Incursions accelerating it's increasing the chances of universal collision exponentially."

No one needed to point out that that would be bad news for Anthony's home universe, not when men such as these were already prepared. "So you need to untether our universes. You can't kill me because that strands the Mind Gem here so you need to send us back; preferably without our memories because let's face it, you can't let us go home knowing what we do - _but_ ," he reminded them pointedly, "the moment you screw with my mind I blow your cover and SHIELD and the Avengers take you down. That about cover it?"

Red Cloak spoke up solemnly. "I can't erase your memory. The Mind Gem is inactive here but it still protects your mind."

So many of the Illuminati were staring at Anthony with something akin to pity that it was starting to freak him out. It was Richards who finally broke the news. Richards with his wide, kind eyes and two children hiding a capability for global destruction that outpaced even the Maker.

"Our universes will uncouple if we send you back but crossing will redo every effect in reverse." He paused. "Gregory's the bridgepoint. You'll need him to activate the tunnel but he won't make it across. The Mind Gem will reabsorb the power it used to create him and once back in your native universe it will be active again. It'll start growing again." The hologram of Anthony's brain scan starting shifting, showing the tendrils coalescing as the brain tumour restarted consuming his mind.

Stark looked miserable. "You go home your brother will be dead again. You'll start dying again."

"We're sorry," Blue Furry added somberly.

That was what the pity had been for, because untethering both universes meant killing his brother and going back to die without even the comfort of ignorance. Anthony would know exactly what he'd given up and what was coming for him. He'd get to enjoy his Earth where the Maker ran experiments on continents, SHIELD tortured suspects, and the Hulk ate people, until either the tumour killed him or the collapsing multiverse did.

He shook his head and his voice wobbled slightly. "You guys sure know how to pitch a project."

"Anthony - " Banner began.

"You need me to cooperate because otherwise our Earths collide."

"And one of us will have to lose," T'challa said softly. It would be a tragedy either way. "You have your insurance Mr. Stark, we are at your mercy. Know that we cannot trick you into this. Reed and I are building a conductive portal now, it should be ready in two days time. I expect you will have an answer by then."

T'challa gave a nod which everyone seemed to take as dismissal except for Stark. The rest filed out leaving the two of them alone and the entire expanse of the stone table was at once too large and too cramped for them both. Above them the blue holograms orbited, flashing reminders of what was to come. Anthony might have been the one with the death sentence but Stark was the one who looked like it. In addition to the cast Anthony could pick up the shadows under his eyes, the unhappiness in his mouth, the tenseness in his shoulders, and felt no sympathy at all.

Stark went to speak whatever hollow words of comfort he had to offer and Anthony cut him off viciously, "Believe it or not, I don't want to talk to you right now."

Stark didn't even contest that and Anthony felt his annoyance flare into something closer to true anger. _How dare he._ His gaze bore a hole through Stark's perfectly healthy, perfectly duplicitous head.

"I knew this universe was too good to be true but I'd still catch myself believing. I would look around and wonder: _what so wrong with our universe that our Earth doesn't look like this? What's so wrong with **me**?_ Because there you were: healthy and sober and respected," Anthony felt gratified when Stark winced, "and then it turned into this..." He spread his arms, encompassing the Necropolis, the crypt, the world, "and I hate it because it's rotten and it reminds me of home and it means Gregory was right." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed. "God, he doesn't even remember being right, does he? That's rhetorical, don't answer."

He was surprised to find himself shaking with some unidentified emotion that he hoped was anger but was most probably fear. Stark made an aborted move to steady him and Anthony recoiled, fingers curled around the back of the stone chair to prevent himself from starting a fight he'd lose.

"No!" Anthony ran a hand over his face as he collected himself. "No," he forced out through teeth. "You're not talking. We're not talking. Maybe later but not now. Right now I'm just..." There were no words he could find to finish that thought and he was afraid the ones he'd substitute would reveal too much.

Stark's gaze returned to the rust-coloured stain on the stone floor where two days ago he'd fallen and bled and died. Where Gregory and Anthony had killed and revived him, and been justly rewarded.

Anthony rested his forehead between his hands on the back of the chair. The stone was cool against his skin. There was a buzzing in his head that probably wasn't really there, just a symptom of the knowledge he now carried with him. "Does Greg know?"

Stark hesitated. "Some of it. He knows - _knew_ \- about the Mind Gem because on some subconscious level you did," Stark's lips twisted, "and you made him."

Anthony cracked one eye open. "He wouldn't have been my first choice."

"The subconscious is a scary place even when it's trying to be helpful," Stark said like he knew what it was to talk to ghosts. "The gem took your guilt and your survival instinct, and gave you what you needed."

"I don't need him."

"You were dying."

"I was fine with it. I was. I - " Anthony bit his own tongue, "I was dealing. Whisky and women. Chemo and radiation. All the greatest hits."

"Well the part of you that's still scared shitless of death wished your smarter, ruthless, evil older brother was still around to save you." There was the barest exhaltation. "And he _did_. He brought you here to stop your cancer and he's been protecting you from us ever since."

Anthony swallowed. "He doesn't know he's the bridgepoint. He's Pinocchio who still thinks he's real." Greg's arrogance would never allow for anything less. "To go home I have to kill him."

Stark paused. "Yes."

 _"Fuck you."_ Stark went to speak but Anthony beat him to it. "I know you didn't make the rules, I know it's my own fucked up subconscious's fault, I know you can't lose things you never really had. I was already dying and my brother's _still dead_. I've already helped kill Greg once, why not twice, right?" Stark was silent and it just made Anthony angrier. "I _know_ I have to go back otherwise it comes down to my Earth vs yours. Thing is, I can't think of a single reason why _you_ should get away with any of this. I think I could go home to die if I knew the Avengers had enough of your secrets to avenge me _._ "

It was uttered as a threat but for some reason Stark just smiled; a flimsy, pathetic thing. He was staring at a spot on the stone floor. "I'm not going to get away with anything," he whispered with perfect faith.

Anthony couldn't be here anymore. He turned on his heel and started making his way to the door.

"Your brother loves you," Stark called out just before Anthony was safely over the threshold. "Gregory doesn't remember what I promised him which is well enough given I've already broken it. I can't keep you safe, so this is what I'm giving you instead: your brother loves you."

"No, he didn't," Anthony admitted without turning around. "That's how I should have known he wasn't real."

Then he fled the chamber leaving Stark behind.

\----------------

Tony didn't know how long he sat at the stone table but outside the sun was dropping below the horizon, a perfect half circle bathing the tombs in sunset red. He looked up just once to see Bruce had joined him. Tony admired the descending star for a few more moments, stretching time before being sucked into another conversation he was dreading, another of his frayed lies coming apart. Bruce wasn't stupid, he'd heard Tony's slip of the tongue during the meeting and now he'd placed himself between Tony and the exit. Like Reed Bruce had always seemed physically out of place in the foreboding chairs, too small and human for the starkness of the thrones. He didn't seem that way today.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Tony asked, tongue heavy.

Bruce curled up in the seat, emphasizing the unfilled space and the lack thereof if he were to transform. No one was in the Necropolis anymore. No one to save Tony from Bruce's wrath and no excuse of secrecy to throw at Banner like a shield.

"You know," Bruce said lightly, "it was only eleven days ago that we had a conversation like this in Avengers Tower. Do you remember?" The table had been wood and not stone but the principle was the same. Tony would sit at one end and Bruce at the other and at the conclusion: judgment.

"You came to confront me about the death of the multiverse and the re-formation of the Illuminati."

"I asked you if it was true and you lied." Tony inhaled sharply but Bruce didn't seem mad. "It took the threat of the Hulk and the fact that I already knew the basics to pry the truth out of you."

Not Tony's finest hour. In retrospect either of the extremes would have been nobler; being honest with Bruce right away or guarding the Illuminati's confidences to his grave. Instead his actions fell between the two, less out of cowardice than out of his own desperate, confused morality.

"We reminiscing about all the times I've lied?" It was unwise to provoke Bruce's anger but Tony couldn't help himself. "Because news flash Bruce, we brought you into the fold and you started lying right along with the rest of us."

"What a boon for you that turned out to be. Strange's magic doesn't work on the Hulk, not for long. I guess I saved myself another trip to space."

All the fight rushed out of Tony as quickly as it had appeared. "We would never do that to you again and if you don't believe me then believe that we'd never risk you coming back as angry as you did last time. There was no plan for you, Bruce. We just had to convince you."

Banner seemed to honestly consider that. "When I joined you promised no more secrets. So I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to consider it carefully. When you said the Illuminati had tested Strange's memory spell before, what did you mean?" Tony blinked, dazed. Bruce continued unabated, "Because it implies that the Illuminati have erased someone's memory before and unless I'm mistaken, you're all accounted for. So I want to know _who_." Bruce's brown eyes were hard and unforgiving and all Tony could see was green creeping around the edges.

 _"Steve._ " The name fell from Tony's lips like a burden. "A long time ago. After repelling the first Incursion broke the Infinity gauntlet." Tony tensed as Bruce dragged in a heavy breath. "I took away his memories and then we put together the Avengers World. And now I lie to him everyday as I use the thing we built together to distract from what goes on here. The Illuminati kept it from you because we knew you wouldn't approve and we _really didn't_ have a back-up plan if you decided to bail."

"You mean _you_ kept it from me."

"No. I mean, yes but - " _it wasn't just me_ he wanted to say, like that made it better.

Brown eyes flickered green and Tony knew at this distance the suit would come too late to save him because Bruce roared and the sound that came out was inhuman. The Hulk smashed his forearms down on the table and the stonetop cracked in two, right down the middle. Tony had to stumble out of his chair as the heavy rock split and fell and the armour was slow, so slow coming out of his skin why hadn't he made it faster -

But Bruce was once again just Bruce, torn shirt non-withstanding. _"You_ kept it from me, Tony. I already knew."

_How? Was Steve remembering? Was -_

Bruce's mouth twisted, guessing the thread of his thoughts. "Reed and Hank told me the day I came here while you and Strange were upstairs. I waited for you to acknowledge it but you didn't. You just kept lying, kept evading. I guess your definition of _no more secrets_ is slightly different than mine."

Tony couldn't help but review all the times Bruce had given him an opening, a chance to prove himself if not an honest man than at least the type of monster capable of keeping a promise. "That's the reason you've been so pissed at me."

Bruce grunted. "I have a lot to choose from but that's the latest."

"I'm sorry." It was too little, much too late and they both knew it. "I didn't want anyone else to know. I didn't want to think about what I did. It wasn't just me but it _was_. Steve was my responsibility. I was the one he looked to last and I was first one to betray him. He trusted me."

Bruce was never merciful. "He _still_ trusts you. But at some point someone's going to poke the right spot and everything's going to come tumbling down." He pursed his lips. "We're all going to come tumbling down."

And Tony knew deep in his heart that it was going to be Steve who led the charge and when he came baying for blood it would be Tony's that called loudest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ Mind manipulation/memory erasure. Does that deserve a warning? 
> 
> Here is where we find out just how screwed everyone is. Anthony moreso than anyone else - but don't count him out. I hope the explanation wasn't too long-winded. This chapter also has the most PoV switches which I am sincerely sorry about. I couldn't seem to stick to either Anthony's or Tony's PoVs given what plot I needed to happen. Comments are welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Up next: _The brother, the bluff, and the bottle._ [Whiskey in the Jar - Thin Lizzy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WDSY8Kaf6o)


	10. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The brother, the bluff, and the bottle._  
>  Music: [Whiskey in the Jar - Thin Lizzy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WDSY8Kaf6o)  
> Individual chapter warnings are in the endnotes.

Anthony accompanied Red Cloak and T'challa as they walked him down to the Palace holding cells. He needed to see for himself and there he was, behind the glass. The imposter. His brother, the bridgepoint, the last pathetic wish of a dying man. A zombie, a ghost, a sickness externalized. Gregory had been born twenty minutes before Anthony; he'd been a singular entity for however short a time. Anthony had been born a twin. He didn't want to die alone.

"What are you doing here?" his Not-Brother sneered. The blond had forgotten everything since he'd been created whole cloth by the cancer in Anthony's head.

Anthony stood in front of the glass and drank in every last detail. The exact shade of icy blue eyes, the perfectly crisp haircut. The tail end of a hairline scar trailing over his left ear. Greg used to pride himself on his immaculate appearance but Anthony only ever saw the flaws. The imperfections that littered Dr. Stark and transformed him from a ruthless business competitor into someone Anthony remembered from long ago. He wanted to forget them all. Instead he'd dug up his brother's corpse and tainted him. Any affection Greg had once harboured for his younger brother had withered away decades ago. It was only Anthony's wishful thinking that resurrected it and stuffed it like straw into a scarecrow. _His_ Greg had had no use for love. It probably made this facsimile a better person than his brother was but it ruined the illusion to know something so fundamental had changed.

"You're dead," Anthony spoke to his blasphemous creation.

Gregory's smirk looked out of place on a stranger's face. "You're dying."

Anthony felt dizzy. "Not yet," he whispered, "but soon."

\---------------------

The night before the Window was completed there was a knock at Anthony's door.

"You have got to be kidding me," Stark muttered, eyeing Anthony when he answered. Instead of the black undersuit Anthony had come to associate with the man Stark was in a grey suit - expensive, Armani, wool - but with scuffed shoes and no tie. Anthony was wearing the same outfit in black.

"At least you had other suits to choose from, SHIELD's laundry service leaves a lot to be desired," Anthony replied as he let Stark into the room. The suite T'challa had provided was luxurious even by Starkian standards and after Anthony had been so cooperative with supporting the Illuminati's story when it came to the Avengers and SHIELD's questions, he'd been subjected to only loose house arrest. The blackmail probably helped. "T'challa bust you down to room service or are you the discreet companionship I ordered?"

Stark stood in the middle of the room, surveying it. "I was sent to convince you to disarm your servers and walk away from any and all thoughts of revenge despite the fact you're the one getting screwed." He didn't look like he believed any of those things to be simple requests.

"Sent, eh?" Anthony made a show of looking him up and down.

Stark ignored him. "So what's it going to cost me?"

Anthony grabbed a crystal tumbler from the cabinet and a bottle of scotch. He took a seat at the beautiful mahogany dining table and motioned for his double to do the same. "Come on, Stark, the first rule of business negotiation is never let the other side know how desperately you want what they have. Especially if it'll cost them nothing to watch you squirm."

Stark sat. "What do you want?"

"I want the multiverse to stop collapsing. I want my brother to either stay alive, or stay dead. I want to live - or at least I want to get to choose how I die." Anthony poured two fingers of the amber liquid into the tumbler. "Can you give me any of that?"

"No."

"Then why ask?" He picked up the glass and sipped his first alcohol in almost ten days. He could see Stark wince and shot him a smirk from under bowed lashes. "Even from your perspective this last week has been a clusterfuck and I have no intention of living through the fallout sober." He took another swallow, the scotch burning a welcome stripe down his throat and warming his insides like the best and only friend he'd ever had. It was mostly for Stark's benefit that Anthony downed the rest of the measure swiftly and found himself refilling his glass automatically.

He met Stark's steady stare and found nothing there he could identify. He wondered if Stark had the same problem gazing at him. Two strangers with the same name. He came to a decision. "You want me to bite my tongue about your Doomsday Cult? It's going to cost you two things. This is the first." Anthony set a second tumbler of in front of Stark with a dull clink and poured two fingers into it. "You're going to get drunk with me."

Stark barely reacted. "No."

"Yes." Anthony's smile was edged. "Gregory's lost his memory, I'm going to lose my mind. We're both about to lose our lives. By my accounting you're coming out leagues ahead. My sobriety means nothing to me, Darling," he punctuated the phrase by picking up his own glass, "but yours means something to you. This is what keeping your lies costs."

Stark stared suspiciously at the alcohol like it was one of his planet-killing bombs; a temporary solution at a price he didn't know he could pay. "And your second demand?"

The vicious creature that lived in Anthony's gut howled in victory. "I'll tell you after a couple more drinks. I promise it's within your power to give. Do you accept?"

Stark still hadn't moved. "You could blow our cover tomorrow morning anyway."

"Greg would say you'd even deserve it but can you really risk the chance I'll keep my word?" Anthony took his jacket off and slung it over the back of his chair before rolling his shirtsleeves up. "It's a dead choice, Stark, but a choice nonetheless and we both know which you're going to choose. You can't afford anything else. Cheers."

He moved to clink tumblers but Stark abruptly pulled his back. His eyes were dark as storms and Anthony felt a brief stab of pity for a man caught in an impossible situation. Stark raised his glass, mesmerized by the amber alcohol like he was Romeo and it was the poison from which he'd never wake.

 _"To the End,_ " he toasted solemnly and Anthony didn't know if he meant the universe, this interlude, his sobriety, or some combination of all three. Stark didn't savour the single-malt at all, just tipped the glass with one flick of his wrist and downed his drink like a pro. He grimaced afterward, disgust and defeat intermingling as he ignored the empty glass and reached for the bottle. He got gracefully to his feet, toeing off his shoes and making his way to the living room.

"Coming?" The question was thrown over his shoulder.

Anthony tried to summon anger for someone who participated so readily in their own ruination but found only sympathy. His tipped his own drink back with the same economy of movement Stark had shown, honed from years of practice. "Yeah."

Two hours later both men were well on their way to drunk: Stark more so than Anthony. Apparently six years of sobriety did shit things for one's tolerance. Who knew? They were sitting side by side on the floor with their backs to the enormous armoire, passing the cheapest bottle of bourbon they could find between them. Stark had lost his jacket too, the physical differences between them reduced to the cast on Stark's left arm and the colour of their eyes. Much to their mutual consternation even their socks were matching shades of navy.

"Admit it, you missed this," said Anthony, delighting in the buzz under his skin and reasonably certain of the answer, "and for a dramatic break in tradition, how about you don't lie?"

Stark took a swig from the bottle and tipped his head back, letting the liquor trickle slowly down his throat. "Every goddamn day. Every day there's a little voice in my head that tells me I should do this. That I deserve to. Mortal danger drowns it out for a little while but I've been - I _was_ sober for six years and that voice never went away. Even when I knew drinking was destroying my life I still thought it was the answer." There was a clink of glass. "Some days I used to wish the Celestials would attack because I'd have something to distract me from that voice. The worst days are the ones when the world is fine and I'm still..."

"You."

"Yeah."

Anthony shifted. "Do these count as good days?"

"Not even slightly." Stark turned his hand over to check whatever technology was embedded in his palm. " _All quiet on the Western Front._ We have at least eight hours."

"So the flashing red lights aren't just an excuse for running out on make-out sessions then." Stark threw him a dirty look and Anthony avoided that topic for now. "You know if that thing goes off and you show up to an Incursion hammered your Fancy-Lamp buddies are going to be very disappointed. I got the impression destroying planets was serious sober business."

"Being drunk might make it easier actually, liquid courage and all that. And afterward I'd have something to blame." Stark shook his head, like he was clearing bad thoughts. "Why'd you never quit?" An interesting question to pose as the bottle was passed back.

"Never had a good enough reason to. Drinking was the one habit of Dad's I picked up and Greg didn't which for a long time was good enough for me," Anthony frowned, "then... life happened I guess. I chose to trust the wrong people, fell in love with the wrong people. The brain cancer was really just the icing on the cake and then the whole world went to hell. None of it seems so bad with liquor. Fucking horrible without it, though."

Stark just stared at him and Anthony realized he was unconsciously rubbing the back of his skull. Mortality peering over his shoulder. Anthony knocked back another mouthful instead, determined to catch up.

"Why'd you revive me?" Stark asked abruptly. "In the Necropolis."

"Don't flatter yourself too much I killed you first and Greg's been advocating for your death basically since we got here. He knew what you were before I did." Stark didn't argue and Anthony ran a hand through his hair. "Dammit Stark, I didn't like Greg most days either and that apparently didn't stop me from resurrecting him."

"I remind you of him." Stark looked carefully away. "Your brother."

"In your more manipulative moments. Or my brother's nicer ones."

"He never shuts up about how I remind him of you." Stark shook his head. "I never wanted to be like him. To be fair I never wanted to be like you either." He glanced at the bourbon in his hand. "I guess if I have to choose this is better."

He finished off the last of the liquid and reached behind them for another bottle. The twisting motion exposed the skin under the three undone buttons of his shirt and Anthony couldn't look away from the faintly glowing circle of light below. He reached out and Stark blinked. Anthony undid the next two buttons one handed, exposing the metal casing with reddened edges. The last time he saw it, it was an embedded port in a dying man. Now it was powered up, pulsing, _alive,_ the bright centre of something very human. His fingers reached out to touch it and Stark shuddered when they made contact, his own hand coming up to encircle Anthony's wrist. It was cold. Anthony had expected warmth.

"You were dead the last time I did this." Stark nodded and it occurred to Anthony then that this was almost too intimate because, "It's your heart isn't it?"

"It's the RT. An electromagnetic battery that powers the armour and regulates a bunch of my automatic reflexes including... that." He faltered. "My heart hasn't worked right in long time."

Anthony fancied he could feel Stark's heartbeat through the metal, timed with the pulsing glow. He started giggling and he couldn't stop. It was too perfect. " _God,_ the three of us are the goddamn Stark trifecta: _a diseased mind, a broken heart, and no soul._ "

Stark smiled though he didn't seem to find it as hilarious as Anthony did. He did use Anthony's captured wrist to tug him down and kiss him though. Stark tasted like alcohol this time round and Anthony was remiss to say he preferred the coffee.

"What happened to too narcissistic for me?" Anthony asked. Stark shrugged. The arm not in a cast moved to Anthony's shirt. Anthony intercepted it until Stark looked up at him, squinting. "Exactly how much of a lightweight are you these days? You're drunk."

"So are you."

Anthony straightened too fast and came to the abrupt realization that Stark probably had a point. "You're still winning."

Stark's smile was thin. "Well, you were right: there's not enough alcohol in the world for what comes next."

Anthony inspected his sloshed counterpart. "I take it back, Nick Fury would hate you."

"I could have told you that: your Fury and my Fury can't be that different. I don't have the best track record with Directors, even when I _was_ the Director."

"How'd you ever manage to swing that? Nicky would rather have me assassinated than see me behind his desk."

"I got Steve Rogers killed." Stark was so still Anthony thought he'd stopped breathing. "They promoted me." He reached for the bottle and Anthony pulled it out of reach.

"I wanted you drunk, not maudlin. I don't like my company to bring down the mood," he shot Stark a look, "and I don't want to have sex with you either. In fact I'm mildly concerned that a cabal of supergeniuses thought the best person to send to seduce me was someone who shares a familial resemblance."

Stark winced. "They didn't specify. I'm pretty sure it never crossed half of their minds that we were that depraved. If it's not that what's the second thing you want from me? There's still something else."

Stark looked drunk enough now to introduce it. Anthony took the bottle away and made sure Stark met his eyes. "I want a secret. Something you're still keeping inside that no one else knows. You must have at least one left. If I'm keeping the Illuminati's secrets then I want one of yours."

There was silence for long enough that Anthony was sure Stark wasn't going to answer.

"I slept with Steve. He doesn't remember." It came out haltingly, like Stark had scraped it out from someplace deep inside him.

Anthony had no idea why that fact was worthy of the utterly haunted look on his double's face. "You somehow become forgettable in bed?"

Stark spoke to the floor. "We were in a suite like this after we survived out first Incursion. Steve was part of us back then. There were no casualties but we couldn't - we wouldn't get away with it again. Next time someone would die: _us_ or _them_ , and Steve wouldn't entertain the idea that we should be the ones to choose. He just knocked on my door and asked if the universe was going to die in eight hours what would I regret not doing. So I took him to bed and promised him I'd find another way." Stark smiled at the memory and then it faded. "And I did, just not in the way he wanted. I proposed it to the rest of the Illuminati and that evening I voted to erase his memory. I saved our Earth from Steve Rogers," Stark's eyes were glassy with self-disgust, "and all I can think is that if he ever regains his memory he's going to kill me for that night alone."

Anthony rocked back. "As a desperate man once told me: _Avengers don't kill._ "

"I might be Steve's exception. He came pretty close before."

"This before or after you got _him_ killed?"

"Before." Stark was still stuck in a trance. "I don't remember it anymore."

"You don't remember the last time the man you're pining over tried to kill you," Anthony deadpanned. "Exactly how popular is _tabula rasa_ for you people?"

"It wasn't Stephen's fault, it was mine. I didn't so much as erase my memories as reload from an out-of-date back-up. I got to forget a lot of terrible stuff I did. Worked out pretty well for me all things considered." The words were belied by the bitterness of Stark's tone.

Anthony swirled the neck of the bourbon between his fingers. "Did you do it on purpose?"

"I don't know." Stark sighed. "I just know I'm not above it."

There was silence for a couple minutes except for the soft ticking of a clock that meant nothing.

Anthony's head tipped back to hit the tastefully carved wood. "Alright, your debts are paid. Screwing your superior officer two hours before you frag him is a pretty godawful secret." Stark flinched and Anthony deliberately ignored the flare of sympathy he felt. "I'll take your indiscretion and the Illuminati's secrets to my ever-nearing grave. Congratulations Stark, you've saved your Earth and it cost you a lot less than your life."

Stark peered over at him. "I'm sor-"

" - I still don't want to hear it from you," Anthony interrupted and he felt the alcohol loosen his tongue. "Want to know my secret?"

"Do you have any left?"

"There is no blackmail." The wooden drawers were hard against his back. "I don't have copies of anything, those data servers don't exist. I just needed some insurance to keep me alive so I invented them on the spot."

Stark was staring at the bottle in his hand like it had betrayed him. "You lied."

"We do that," Anthony replied, sighing. "I tricked the Illuminati into toeing the line because Richards scares the shit out of me and I tricked you into drinking because I'm still pissed at you."

Stark was just blinking slowly. "You still promise you won't tell anyone?"

Anthony snapped. "For fuck's sake, Stark! Get angry! I made you drink and spill your guts for _fun_. I could tell Rogers everything I know! Even if I don't rat you out the multiverse is still dying, your Earth's still in danger, and it doesn't matter how well you've prepared eventually you're going to lose!"

Stark was looking bewildered at him, good arm up in a gesture of surrender. "Anthony..."

" - and you guys at least have a fighting chance! My Earth is so fucked up it literally wouldn't matter. There aren't enough of us left to put together a plan. Pym's dead, Greg's dead, Banner's gone, so's T'challa... Richards would instantly go on a killing spree, so would Fury if we're being honest. It would be me, Carol, and Thor, and then it would just be Carol and Thor because I'll be dead and then - " Anthony came back to himself and finished softly, "...then I'll be dead."

His vision was blurry and he was horrified to discover it was because of the tears. He buried his face in his arms to hide from everything: the unfairness of the universe, the perfect indifference of death. The glimpse of the future he briefly saw was now closed off once again: every thread leading to inevitable dead ends and Anthony would be walking them alone. Without Greg, without Jarvis, without Natasha. Without six fellow men to sit around a stone table and damn themselves with him. Stark might be killed by someone he'd once called a friend but Anthony was going to die alone.

Stark was touching him again. Not with any particular intent, just raking his good hand up and down Anthony's arm hesitatingly. A traitorous part of Anthony wished Greg was here instead because Stark was obviously had never had any practice ground into him as a child that adult antipathy couldn't break.

"You're shit at giving comfort," croaked Anthony finally, fighting back tremors.

Stark's voice was small. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Not everyone has the right instincts."

"That's not what I was apologizing for."

Stark picked up the knocked-over bourbon and Anthony gratefully downed the rest, anything to bury that revelation again. Stark turned to grab another bottle of something - Wakandan wine, they were getting classier again - before turning back around.

"You don't have to," Anthony reminded him. Stark knew the truth now. There was nothing keeping him here.

Stark just smiled weakly. "I don't want to stop. Let me keep the excuse." He poured the rich burgundy wine and twin glasses clinked.

 _"To honesty,"_ Anthony toasted mock triumphantly and Stark fell against his side laughing a madman's cackle and Anthony couldn't help but join him.

\-------------

Sometime around 4 am there was a knock at the door and Anthony stumbled to answer it because Stark certainly wasn't going anywhere quick. He opened the door to the sight of a blank blue T-shirt stretched across a broad chest. It was Rogers, dressed in civies, a worried expression on his face.

"Good evening, mon Capitaine," Anthony said with a hiccup and a flourish. "Or good morning, I suppose."

The worried expression immediately transformed into commonplace annoyance. Rogers's hand shot out and grabbed Anthony's wrist, pressing hard until Anthony lost his grip on the wine he was holding. Rogers caught the bottle before it hit the ground and spun Anthony against the wall in one smooth move as he made his way past him into the suite without an invitation.

"Tony!" Rogers called as Anthony hurried to catch up, he needed to stop him before -

"Cap!" came a call of delight and Rogers's frame stiffened as he took in the sight in the dining room. All things considered Anthony had left Stark in a relatively intact state. He was dishevelled but mostly dressed: missing shoes and with his shirt unbuttoned but with his virtue - such as it was - intact. He'd made it to his feet though his hip was cocked up on the table for support, his smile brimming. His eyes were bright and he had a rose flush running from the tips of his ears down to the top of the RT. He couldn't have hidden the fact he was drunk if he'd tried and Stark was so far into his cups it hadn't yet occurred to him to do so.

"Tony..." Rogers sounded devastated, bordering on sick, as he took in the open bottles. "What are you doing?"

Stark blinked, happy mood dissipating at the Captain's tone. "I..." He looked around as if seeing the chaos of liquor and glasses for the first time and along with it their implication. He studied his fingers like maybe he was hoping it had been someone else's hands that had been tipping back glasses and pouring measures. Anthony could see the whirlpool of shame threatening to break through the incapacitating buzz of alcohol.

Stark lost the fight to the current. He looked at Anthony like he had been betrayed for the second time that night. "I did what you wanted, why did you tell him?"

"I didn't," Anthony said sourly as Rogers just stared stonily back. "He came here on his own and busted in without asking."

"Tell me what?" Rogers asked sharply.

Anthony threw a smile that was mostly teeth. "That we were holding a party and could have used a blond. Anecdotally I've heard your kind always have more fun and I know for a fact you can outdrink even me." Rogers glared at him. "Care to join?" Anthony gave one of his most flirtatious smiles. "Or are you one of those people who prefer to watch?"

Rogers actually growled. "What did you do to him?"

"He did nothing," Stark protested. _Lie._

"Oh, I definitely did something." Anthony deliberately picked up a discarded glass of wine and sipped it under Rogers's glare. He didn't have half the reverence for his Captain that Stark did. From the sharp look Rogers was giving him in turn the man didn't think much of Anthony either.

"We're leaving, Tony. Now." Rogers moved around the table and Stark stumbled back like his touch would burn.

"No, no, no. You're not supposed to be here, Steve. You were supposed to forget about me. We can't be here..."

 _Crap_. Stark was going to screw himself over. A quick glance at Rogers seemed to indicate that he'd taken the babbling as a drunkard's shame and not literal truth but when he reached for Stark again the latter formed a gauntlet around his left arm, repulsor wavering and aim unsteady.

"You need to stay away from me, Steve," Stark pleaded, on the verge of tears. It was a painfully truthful statement - probably one of the only ones in the sea of lies Stark was drowning in - so it was with life's fatal irony that Rogers couldn't see it as the warning it was.

"I won't touch you," Rogers said softly, "but I'm not leaving without you."

Stark's shoulders sagged as the universe seemingly forced him back onto the path he didn't want to walk. Anthony took pity then. Maybe it was because Stark had accomplished too much to be undone by a drunken confession or maybe Stark simply reminded him too much of who his brother could have been if he'd been a little kinder. Or who Anthony could have been if he had a future to worry about and sobriety had stuck. Anthony approached and Rogers shifted to place himself between them in some awful misplaced duty. Anthony ignored both the soldier and the outstretched repulsor to slip a supporting arm behind Stark's back.

"Do you remember where you are, Stark?" asked Anthony quietly, bending their heads together. He squeezed Stark's palm over where the Illuminati implant resided and that more than anything seemed to sober him up immediately.

When Stark raised his head again it was the same despondent, tired look he'd had when he'd knocked on the door earlier that evening. He looked over Anthony's shoulder at where Rogers was still watching and his mood seemed to plummet further. "He's angry with me."

Rogers could hear them but Anthony didn't mince words. "Yeah."

Any semblance of independent will seemed to leave Stark then, like air leaking out of a balloon. "Not nearly angry enough," he whispered as he sagged in Anthony's grip. He was heavier, so much heavier than Anthony anticipated ( _that's what happens when you've got iron in your bones_ ) and they slipped sideways onto the couch. Anthony stroked his fingers through Stark's hair in his lap like he used to do eons ago back when his brother would still allow it. Stark gradually succumbed to the comforting touch, sinking under the surface and drifting into dreamless sleep.

"I'm taking him. Don't try and stop me," was all Rogers said when Stark was finally dead to the world.

"Be my guest," muttered Anthony. Rogers may have been angry but he was gentle, carefully re-buttoning Stark's shirt before picking him up like he weighed nothing and threading him carefully through the suite to the door.

Anthony held it open.

"Captain?" The blond man turned at Anthony's surprisingly respectful request. "Be kind to him." Blue eyes widened briefly like it had never occurred to him to do otherwise. "He might not deserve it after all this, but be kind."

"Mr. Stark," Rogers acknowledged stiffly, unconsciously cradling the man in his arms closer.

There was no hope there for anything but tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ blackmail, alcoholic relapse, a single Anthony/Tony kiss which is acknowledged as a bad idea.
> 
> I felt like Anthony needed to get a little of his own back seeing as he's getting screwed the hardest. His payback is cruel though I don't think he understands how cruel because he puts very little weight in sobriety and he doesn't know the depth of the guilt Tony is carrying about secrets and Steve.  
> Comments are welcomed and appreciated.  
> Up next: _Home is where the heart aches._ [Optimistic - Radiohead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1On-ZHfTWOo)


	11. Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Home is where the heart aches._  
>  Music: [Optimistic - Radiohead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1On-ZHfTWOo)
> 
> Individual chapter warnings are in the endnotes.

Tony woke slowly, cocooned in a warmth he was loathe to give up. His head was swimming pleasantly, the constant overclocked buzz of his thoughts dulled. His muscles ached for some reason but there was no jarring pain. Instinct told him that more sleep would take care of both problems and he burrowed deeper into the luxurious sheets, Wakandan sunlight warming any skin left exposed.

"I know you're awake, Tony." The voice was familiar. Tired.

 _Steve._ For a brief wondrous moment Tony thought there was still time. The Illuminati would meet tonight but Tony could persuade them, could persuade Steve. There was still time to find a third option that meant he could keep this and protect the universe too. It had all been a bad dream of a future that he'd make sure would never come to pass.

He opened his eyes to the light spilling through the wide windows and was immediately rewarded with a spiking headache. The previous night's events bore down on him like ground rush. The minor aches and pains he'd recognized upon waking became acute injuries. The throbbing in his head became a cacophonous symphony, the muddled thoughts in his head no longer a symptom of the well-rested but the hungover. His mouth felt like dried sandpaper. Familiar was what it felt like; not good familiar, bad familiar.

He dreaded turning his head towards the voice that had spoken. He knew he'd find Steve sitting in the armchair next to the bed, probably with quilt and pillows arranged in such a way that would confirm he'd spent the night there, making sure Tony didn't wander off or choke in the night. Tony turned towards the wall hoping to avoid the sight. He couldn't escape the evidence of Steve's care though. He downed the glass of water placed next to the bed (Steve), forced himself out of the bed (not his, Steve's) and discovered he was clad in only boxers and a t-shirt (Steve again) before stumbling into the shower without a word or a backwards glance in a move that managed to convey both ungratefulness and cowardice at once.

The water revived him. He could feel his emotions coming back online one by one: _shame, disgust, fear, guilt,_ and then - this was the really horrible part - they were shunted off into the background as he sought to figure out what he'd revealed, what he could hope to salvage, how to prop himself back up. What lies he'd have to spin to plaster over the drunken hole in the wall he'd punched the night before. It was only by Anthony's grace he hadn't revealed more. When Tony opened the bathroom door again Steve was sitting in the armchair, elbows braced on his knees and dressed in his uniform. The predicted quilt and pillows were folded over one of the arms.

The silent judgment bit at Tony's heels until he couldn't take it anymore. "You want to ask, so ask."

 _"Why?"_ Steve didn't even look up, just stared down at his own hands. It would be that the only question he asked would be the only one Tony couldn't answer.

"Leave it," he said, knowing full well it was a futile wish. "Just leave it."

"No, Stark." The use of his last name felt like a blow. "Tell me why." It was Captain America's voice, not Steve's anymore. In a way that made it easier.

"It doesn't matter, does it? It happened. The why doesn't matter." Tony began a rather frenzied hunt for last night's clothing before Steve pointed to the bed where someone had retrieved one of Tony's garment bags. He dressed hastily before moving towards the exit when Steve planted himself in front of the door.

"Steve..." Tony's voice broke. He must have looked as bad as he felt: as disgusted and unclean and agitated because Steve's expression actually softened. Steve reached out a hand on Tony's shoulder and Tony had to resist shaking it off because Steve didn't _know_.

"Of course it matters," Steve said almost gently. "I know this past year has been stressful for you. You never said anything but I could tell and I told myself that if you really needed help you'd reach out because I was _right here_. Then _they_ came through and you were tying yourself into knots but I told myself you had it under control. You could handle it."

"I did handle it."

"You drank," Steve said simply. "That's not 'under control'. Not for you."

Tony felt sick. It wasn't the hangover.

Steve's eyes were wide and blue and clear. "I thought we moved past this. No more secrets. I just want to help, to understand. Please." He even moved away from the door leaving Tony's escape route unblocked but Tony, foolishly, didn't take it. Some invisible bond kept him from bolting.

Steve seemed to take that as a good sign. "You were sober for what -- six, seven years?"

Tony ran a hand over his face. "Not drinking didn't make me any less of an alcoholic."

"You were in recovery. What changed?"

"What excuse could I give that would be enough for you? Because by nature I don't really need a reason to drink." Tony threw his arms wide in exasperation. "It was the stress, it was the adrenaline. It was Tuesday. It was nice to forget - " He cut himself off. Steve got to forget. Tony didn't. "I fucked up this week Steve. On so many levels. I learned I'm a supervillain. I already knew I was a drunk."

"You're not -"

" - Of course I am." _On both counts._ "You're disappointed you found me drinking, not surprised." Steve looked ashamed and Tony just shrugged. "I've given you reason enough to assume the worst of me. Consider last night a reminder."

Steve didn't dismiss him. Steve still wanted more because he was the type of person that thought knowing people better brought them closer together. Tony was the type of person wise enough to know it'd only drive good people further from him.

 _"Tony."_ Steve's voice was broken and earnest.

Tony had to give him something. "I was the reason they escaped, Maria figure that out yet?"

The look on Steve's face made it clear that it was the first he was hearing of it. Tony accessed the data feed under his skin, surveillance footage playing out in front of them. The CCTV camera had been down but Iron Man's systems had still been running. There was Anthony and Gregory pacing in their cell, mouths moving mutely. There was one twin attacking the other and Tony's arrival. There was Anthony's kiss and Greg's distraction and one white hand snaking into the undersuit to relieve Tony of a key. There was Anthony helping him up and a smear of blood. Steve understood the implications. There was a faint rose blush working its way across his cheeks, betraying his stoic facade but he seemed determined to endure the damning evidence with grace.

Tony killed the feed right before the Illuminati implant went off. Steve, quite naturally, assumed Tony cut it for more intimate reasons.

"I thought you all hated each other." Steve sounded vaguely lost and Tony blinked away the memory of a cool hand on his neck and an offer of more.

_No, we all just fuck up the things we love until it's pretty impossible to distinguish an act of love from an act of war._

"It's complicated." Understatement of the century.

Steve waved his hand towards where the hologram used to be. "Is that why you were drinking with him last night?"

Tony shrugged. "That's complicated too." He couldn't give Steve the truth so he gave him a dirty little secret instead because all Starks had replaced courage with cunning a long time ago. He'd swear Steve to secrecy on this front and come clean enough to Maria later.

There was silence as Tony awaited his judgment.

Steve had most of the force in his voice back. "You can't do it again."

Something broken and mad inside Tony laughed, attempting to figure out to which terrible thing the command applied: the kissing, the drinking, betraying SHIELD, or more broadly: betraying Steve, lying to himself, blowing up a planet or two, or five. It didn't really matter of course; Tony could do it again. When push came to shove he would damn himself and kill a world for the sake of this Earth. For this Steve who wouldn't thank him. Or at least Anthony thought Tony was capable of murder on that magnitude. Gregory was pretty sure he wasn't. Tony wasn't keen to find out who was right.

"I won't do it again." Tony didn't know if it was a lie.

Steve nodded, more sure now. "No one saw you in the halls last night but if you can't guarantee - "

"You can't kick me off the team for this," Tony interrupted, more desperately than he intended. "I helped write the Charter, you'd need a quorum of all members to vote. I drank, I didn't suit up or answer an order to assemble drunk. It's not illegal." Could Cap find the votes for that? The younger members who didn't know Tony's history might not see it as a big deal but the older ones- even if they didn't think he was a liability in a vote between Captain America and Iron Man, Tony loses. If he could just -

"Alright." Steve's expression was pained and Tony hated it. "It's none of their business unless you bring it to work but Tony - I care, okay? We all do. And if you need to step back we'll still be here when you're ready."

The Illuminati needed a finger on the pulse. "I'm ready now."

Steve just gave him an unimpressed look.

"What do I have to promise you?" Tony asked, preparing to write more cheques he knew he wasn't good for.

"No drinking. For any reason."

"Done."

If Steve was surprised at the haste of Tony's answer he didn't show it. "I also called Herman Hellrung last night, he's going to meet us back at the Tower." Tony gave Steve a speculative look. "You relapsed Tony, and I had no idea who you'd be okay with me calling - your sponsor was the safest choice. You don't have to talk to me," Steve swallowed like he hoped for something different, "but you need to talk to him."

"I will." _Lie_. Steve nodded but his jaw was set, anticipating something unpleasant, and Tony beat him to the punch. "You can blood test me whenever you want. I won't drink."

Steve looked at him like he wanted to believe and Tony willed his features into something resolved.

"I know you won't," Steve said finally.

For some odd reason it was that tiny concession that caused the damn holding back Tony's guilt to break because Steve was giving him the benefit of the doubt. The unfairness of it all nearly choked him. "Okay. No drinking, talk to Herman, stay on the team. I promise."

He wondered if anyone had ever sent Steve to an Al-anon meeting; given him some pointers on how to deal with addicts. How to protect yourself from the lies they told as the addiction ate them up and how to deal with the disappointment when they didn't change. A leopard can never change his spots; he just paints them over with red and gold. Tony is what he always was: an alcoholic and a weapon's manufacturer and a liar. When would Cap learn.

"I trust you, Tony." Steve was always as good as his word. Tony was always as worthless as his.

One more night of reprieve before the gallows.

\-----------------

No one questioned The Window. They definitely should have. It had been erected in two days; a portal to an alternate universe and no one - not even the paranoid spies at SHIELD - batted an eye. People seemed to treat it like as no more than a particularly expensive grade school science project. They couldn't see how inelegant it was, how it tore a gaping hole through a dying multiverse with all the precision of a shotgun wound. How could they know? The only people who could have told them were all sworn to secrecy. The Brotherhood of Fancy Lamps: perpetual winners of Grade School Science Fairs everywhere. Be nice to nerds in high school, they grow up to be kings and doctors and killers.

By 4 o'clock the Window was up and operating. The contraption attracted SHIELD personnel and Avengers alike and Tony had retreated to the overlooking balcony, craving distance. Bruce was already up there and Tony was fully expecting the cold shoulder he was given. He gritted his teeth against the loss. It was his own fault after all.

_Think of it as a practice run for the rest. A cold shoulder is relatively mild compared to what's waiting._

Banner was leaning casually against the railing, staring down at the assembly. "You missed the diagnostic run last night. Where were you?"

It was such an incidental question but Tony had to curb the instinct to spout the easy lie anyway. _Sorry I missed it, I was sleeping._ Of the things he hated about himself his rediscovered propensity for untruths was at the fore. This was Bruce, a man on his side, his friend most of the time. Tony had already failed Bruce's ultimatum but a new lie was already there on the tip of his tongue, ready to poison their already dead relationship. He didn't even have to look for it. It came as naturally as breathing.

Tony leaned his forearms against the rail, a single deep breath rattling through weakened ribs. "I missed it because I got drunk with Anthony to prevent him from releasing the blackmail it turns out he did not have. Then Steve showed up and put me to bed in the same suite we had sex the night before the Illuminati erased his memory, which, thankfully, he does not remember."

He was vaguely aware Bruce had turned around but Tony couldn't stop the torrent now, desperate to get the rot out. "I showed him footage of the make-out session I had with Stark & Stark before they stole the key and my DNA and escaped SHIELD which I'm aware means everything that came after in the Necropolis is my fault. Cap seemed to take that as a good enough reason for me to drink and not that we nearly lost the Earth to an Incursion and a planet-killer hostage situation. Then I swore him to secrecy and now I've got him hovering around me like a mother hen which I have to allow or I lose my place in the Avengers which I don't deserve anyway but we still need someone on the inside.

He took a breath. "And Steve's not really wrong to be worried. I've spent a good amount of today being distracted by the threat of the end of the world, my unstable doppelgangers, and a device for interdimentional travel but all my brain wants to focus on is how I can bypass all of Steve and Wakanda's countermeasures and get drunk enough to forget all this, even for a moment."

Bruce wasn't yelling or interrupting, what did that mean? Tony desperately groped around for something else. "That's it, that's everything, I swear. Oh, wait - no it isn't, I promised Gregory I wouldn't let his brother get hurt and that's exactly what I'm about to let happen. But hey, we're going to kill Greg to power up a portal so he's unlikely to be in a position to curse me out as he watches his brother die of brain cancer." He rubbed his eyes. "And I _know_ he's a hard-light figment of Anthony's imagination and goddamn supervillain to boot but I can't help but think that we're not the different. He'd damn his Earth to save his brother and we'd damn his Earth to save ourselves. _Jesus_ \- stop looking at me like that, Bruce."

But Bruce didn't stop. He didn't look angry, he looked - scared actually, and Banner rarely did. Tony looked down at his own hands. They were shaking. Uncontrollably, as he soon found out. He wrapped them tightly around his torso to keep them still as he fought down what was clearly an attack of conscience so acute his body was rejecting it.

"You're okay, Tony," Bruce said as if talking to a spooked animal.

"Of course I am," Tony replied but he couldn't keep his voice from cracking.

"Do you have anyone to talk to? About all this, I mean."

Tremors ran through Tony like aftershocks. "Not really. Everyone has their own shit to deal with. People know bits of it. T'challa must know about the drinking last night because his personal guard has started shadowing me. I think Stephen knows something about Steve and me. I don't think he knows how far it went. As for talk therapy I pissed off the only psychologist in our universe who isn't a supervillain and if I talked to him at some point he'd work out that _I'm_ the supervillain and now - " Tony opened his mouth but nothing came out. He'd purged himself of lies and it was awful how little was left. Only the truth: that he was a coward, a liar, a thief, a hypocrite.

Bruce moved a hand to his shoulder and Tony nearly jumped at the unexpected contact.

"You're okay, Tony. We'll get through this."

But there was no _through this_. There was no other side, no solution. They were all stuck lying until they died. Bruce knew it too.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," Tony said as he shook his head vigorously, getting a grip on himself. "You know I've tried to come up with a good enough reason for Stephen to erase my memory so I could just... walk away. Maybe I'd piss the Illuminati off, maybe I'd just beg. Or I could do that troublesome brain reboot again. But none of it would work," his mouth twisted, "I'd figure it out. Too many of our weapons run through Resilient for me not to notice. It's the same reason the Illuminati can't let Namor kill me - "

"No one's going to kill you Tony!" Bruce yelled loud enough that the balcony echoed and Tony immediately double-checked to make sure they were alone.

The outburst seemed to startle Bruce back into calm. "Despite the fact I think the Illuminati are a terrible idea, _I get it._ If I didn't I wouldn't be here. I'm in, which means I want to protect our universe which means we need you. We need you and your brain and your talents which amount to more than just weapons and lying by the way. Don't check out on us now."

It was meant to be an order but it came out much closer to a plea. Come to think of it, Bruce hadn't been looking so hot these past few days. He never looked particularly fortified but he was paler, pinched.

Tony knew what had changed. "You blew up your first world."

Bruce closed his eyes. "T'challa did the actual honours."

"He's the best of us."

"Yeah."

"That's a pretty low bar to clear."

He was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles. "Yeah."

They fell into silence, the low hum of electricity from below the only sound. Eventually Bruce wiped his glasses before resettling them. "You can talk to me, Tony. I promise to listen, just don't leave me to do this alone."

Tony's promises were worthless. Bruce's weren't, not yet.

"Okay."

\----------------

Gregory and Anthony arrived at the Window under armed escort because Maria had a saying: _fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, you blink wrong and I'll blow you away._ Anthony had apparently recovered from his night of drinking with much more grace than Tony had. His suit wasn't even wrinkled. Gregory was out of his hospital gown and back into his white suit though the stains - blood, ash, mud - remained. If the SHIELD agents with guns weren't enough to keep them in check, the Avengers were also on hand. This was not to discount Wakanda's own security teams who prowled the edges. Even Doc Samson was on hand, seeing it through.

"Leonard," Tony greeted.

"Stark," he replied coldly and Tony saw the ashes of another bridge burnt. His stunt with the prisoners and the Quinjet last week erasing whatever leftover favour Leonard had once shown him.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Maria called from the back.

Reed and T'challa dialed up the Window, the eerie blue sheen stretching like a pane across the frame. Everyone took an automatic step back except the Illuminati and the Starks. Gregory inched forward, evidently intrigued, while Anthony lingered.

"The dimensional funnel connects to your universe, though we've shifted the spatial coordinates to specify Arlington, Virginia," Reed explained. Then he awkwardly stretched out his hand to Anthony and deposited a small, black crystal. "This drive has your most recent brain scans," he bit his lip, "maybe they'll help someone else with your case."

"Sure, Richards," Anthony said blankly.

"Tony also contributed updated security protocols for your nanites," T'challa added.

Anthony nodded, still focused on where Gregory was scrutinizing the portal with suspicion. The Window was the scientific equivalent of a sacred altar awaiting its sacrificial calf. As soon as the bridgepoint passed the veil the tunnel would stabilize. Its atoms would annihilate, becoming a sparkling beacon calling to the other universe as it rushed to reclaim its Mind Gem and all the associated pieces. It was Anthony's only way home, the only way to untether their universes and give both Earths a chance - or at least buy both Earths a few days more - and all it would cost was the half-life of one dead villain.

"I'm so glad you've all started to get along," came Maria's irritated voice as she strode forward, "but I've been reliably informed by the smartest man on the planet that if you don't go home 'Bad Things will happen' and I'm quoting him on that. Let's get a move on."

The portal spun up, the hydraulic pumps drowned out conversation. Anthony stared into the abyss as Tony stepped forward. A cacophony of clicks echoed through the room as the security teams readied their weapons.

"AK9-0-1178-jarvis-H." At the code Anthony's restraining cuff disengaged and fell to the floor.

"Dr. Stark's cuff will disengage in the portal," T'challa said. It would be annihilated along with the rest of him. Gregory rolled his eyes at what he obviously thought was overkill, having forgotten the massive ruckus he'd caused on two separate occasions. All of the goons remembered and kept their guns levelled accordingly.

"Well," Anthony clapped his hands in exaggeration for the benefit of the room, "it's been horrible - I'm sure you all feel the same - and rest assured, I will not be recommending this hotel to my friends." His gaze turned sardonically to the Illuminati. "I'd say _goodbye and good riddance_ but knowing my luck I'll stick to: _may it be a long time before we meet again._ "

There was fear barely hidden behind the words and on impulse Tony grabbed Anthony and tugged him into a hug. Tony was sure he heard a couple of shouted orders about clean shots but he ignored them, tucking Anthony as close to him as possible, close enough to feel the soft, rapid vibrations thrumming through him. Anthony might have pretended it was the nanites coming back online. Tony knew better.

 _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._ He couldn't say it aloud so squeezed tighter. It could not be repeated enough for all the good it did and maybe Tony was getting better at this comfort thing because Anthony buried his head in Tony's shoulder and took two shuddering breaths.

"I'm sorry," Anthony whispered and Tony shook his head.

"Don't be."

These little apologies for tiny debts shouldn't matter, not when compared to what was coming, but instead it seemed to make them all the more important. You apologized when you could now in the foreknowledge of all the things to come; things so monstrous you'd never be able to properly apologize again. Gregory was watching them with suspicion in narrowed eyes and behind him Tony could see Steve. For a moment the blond heads melted into each other; both having gotten too close to the truth and both now paying the price for it.

"Dr. Stark," Tony said formally. "I'm - "

"I know who you are," Greg interrupted.

"Right," so much for final goodbyes, "well I promised SHIELD this would be over by lunchtime."

"And we wouldn't want you breaking another promise," Greg drawled deliberately, the slightest emphasis on _another_ , and he met Tony's gaze with his own of piercing, burning blue.

The blood froze in Tony's veins.

 _Another promise_ meant Greg remembered the first one. He remembered Tony's visit in the hospital which meant he remembered the crypt; he remembered the Illuminati and the Incursions and the crisis and -

One of Greg's hands clapped Tony on the back to cover for the other that splayed itself across his chest, large palm covering the hard casing of the hidden RT as if to smother the light at its heart. Tony tried to hide his panic; there was dozens of eyes on him - SHIELD, Steve, the Avengers - a captive audience for when Gregory denounced them to the heavens.

" _I know who you are_ Stark," the blond leaned in closer, "and Anthony told me all about your _Window_."

No one save T'challa, Bruce, and Reed knew the implications behind those words. Tony looked dazedly to Anthony. He'd thought Anthony had taken his pound of flesh last night for the unfairness of it all but maybe it hadn't been enough.

"It wouldn't have been right not to tell him." Anthony gave a tiny, sad smile. "You wouldn't understand. You never had a brother."

Tony had had friends once though. Ones he erased and lied to and exiled, and told himself it was to the world safe. Killing an oblivious Gregory was simply a step to far for Anthony and the part of Tony not bitter with betrayal thought that that probably made Anthony the better of the two of them.

None of that explained why Greg was letting the silence stretch.

Anthony was completely calm. "We need to go home. Well, _I_ need to go home. I told Greg he can stay here if he wants."

If someone entered the Window without the bridgepoint they'd die in the void between universal threads. It was a choice and yet not a choice at all. Anthony just smiled the same tired, victorious smile Tony recognized so well: the expression of a man who had won at the expense of himself because the version of Gregory that Anthony had conjured was a man who loved his brother more than himself. Gregory's singular purpose was to keep Anthony alive. He couldn't let him die. Even if it meant his own annihilation.

Greg's lip curled because he knew it too.

"I'm sorry," Tony murmured aloud. It seemed important that he actually say it.

"I know," Anthony replied tiredly, "but when was the last time that stopped any of us?"

Gregory's eyes were as blue as Tony's, Anthony's hair as dark. The three of them complete strangers: _dead_ to _dying_ to _marked_.

Greg broke the stalemate, fearlessly striding toward the Window. "I'm not waiting for you."

"Typical," Anthony murmured almost fondly as Gregory disappeared across the veil. Anthony took off after him, never looking back. That might not have been the way it should have been but that was the way it was.

There was a single ripple across the pane of the Window before a bright flare in the depths as the bridgepoint activated. Then there was just the mesmerizing shimmer of the veil, opaque to whatever worlds lay beyond.

"Are they going to be alright?" Leonard asked, low and concerned.

"No," Tony replied honestly.

They were Starks and there was no cure for that.

\----------------

That night Tony found himself alone with the ghosts in the City of the Dead. He passed the statues of the Panther Goddess and the great stone table now cracked in two, to descend, step by heavy step, into the crypt. The lit cavern of bombs greeted him like a long lost brother. The oppressive silence felt like the weight of the universe pressing down and he lost himself wandering through the maze of them, each one deadly and dangerous and alone despite being surrounded by others. Each promising to trade its payload of destruction for a terribly brief respite. It was their singular purpose and no good intention would save them.

He stalked through the rows, his right hand trailing along their cold, metal hearts. The alert embedded in his left hand remained silent.

They had at least eight hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warnings:_ Sort of character death. Greg definitely ceases to exist, but he was already dead and sort of not Greg. 
> 
> We're done! I tried to leave as much canon intact as I could: the Illuminati still have their secrets, Greg is still dead, the multiverse is still collapsing. This was my first attempt to write a chaptered story whose emphasis was plot and platonic character interactions. It was originally a lot harsher (rated M) with more romantic/sexual scenes that I was using to cover plot holes. My attempts to iron out the plot only somewhat worked because I inexplicably chose alternating PoVs of characters that interact _all the time_. I'm so glad this is done and posted. One more thing off the resolution list.
> 
> Thanks for coming with me on this. Comments are welcome and appreciated!
> 
> Playlist may be posted in the future.


End file.
